Pick up the Pieces and Move On
by Umei no Mai
Summary: Xanxus wrestles with the healing process, changing relationships and Don Vongola's expectations. (Post canon, canon-typical violence, crime and child abuse, exploration of trauma and recovery, consent issues, theology, religious intolerance, non-traditional relationships, family fluff.) Second in the 'Pick up the Pieces' series. Cover art by mayurei.
1. Chapter 1

This story is written on Fanfiction dot net and published there only. Anybody reading this story on other websites is reading unauthorised copies. Please read this story on Fanfiction dot net where I can see reviews and hit-counts, which tell me how much people are enjoying my work so I can be encouraged to go on writing.

Beta'd and contributed to by the inspiring Insane Scriptist.

So.. here we are again! This story has turned into a trilogy, so there's going to be a third section just as soon as I can write it. Which will take time, because I'm going on holiday in the middle of next week. However I'm still going to update every day (bar Sunday) until _this_ story is complete, although there might be a few delays here and there.

Also, I'm not going back to Black Sky just yet. My grandpa died at the beginning of July and I can't face going back to my happy story, which may also be why the plot for this got so complicated all of a sudden. Still, I hope everybody enjoys what I've written.

* * *

 **Pick up the pieces (and move on)**

"Hi Xanxus!"

"Hey," Xanxus replied hoarsely, awkwardly conscious that he was curled up with his stuffed tiger on the bathroom floor of a hotel room in Canberra at eight o'clock in the evening, after a few snatches of conversation overheard in the street had sent him spiralling down into a flashback and he'd had to abandon the prospective stakeout in favour of locking himself in here and reminding himself how to breathe. "Talk, please?"

His wonderful Cloud instantly obliged him. "I've been visiting around campus looking at accommodation and deciding where I'm going to live; there's not much of a choice and it's all really small, but I can't face staying at home. Not after a year of having my own space; going back to sharing a bedroom with my sister is just too much, you know? And she's sixteen now, she needs her space and after having a whole year without me she wants that space too. I mean yes, I could commute, but it's over an hour door-to-door and not even having my own bedroom? No. So I'm checking out the halls and trying to find somewhere there's still a space open this late in the game. I might even end up with a shared bathroom rather than an en-suite and there's _nowhere_ in budget that offers a kitchen that's shared between less than seven people, but self-catered is still way better than just eating cafeteria food all year round and I'm used to cooking for myself now, you know? I'm just hoping I end up with decent hall-mates or else I'm really going to struggle. I'm not too bothered about the actual classes –it's all fun and new and the textbooks I've looked at so far are moderately interesting once you get past the terrible technical language– but I need my down-time and it's looking like I'm only going to be able to get that in my room, or failing that sitting out on campus somewhere with headphones on."

Xanxus let the words wash over him, his pulse settling and his mind steadying at the sound of his friend's voice.

"It's making me think carefully about whether I actually _do_ want to move out, really; I'm also looking into possibly renting a small on-campus flat rather than staying in halls, but those all seem to have been snapped up already so I'm checking back in case of cancellations. I've submitted a few requests for additional information so I can compare things, but I'm probably going to end up in halls. I'm prepared to push my budget a bit if it means getting a decent-sized room with my own en-suite, even though I'm a still bit iffy about shared laundry and kitchen facilities."

"More about who than what there," he managed, settling back against the wall and feeling his shoulders finally unknot.

"I know, that's why I'm willing to give it a shot," Florrie said with determined cheer. "It might well turn out fine, so there's no point borrowing trouble." She paused. "My friend's wedding went well; it wasn't sunny but it wasn't raining or horrendously humid either, the ceremony was short and there was lots of very nice cake at the reception; quite a lot of alcohol too, but I avoided that and then had to make an effort to avoid the people who hadn't, which was less fun. My friend was happy though and not being maid of honour meant I didn't have to give a speech, which was all for the best really."

"Not a public speaker?"

"Not particularly, no; I mean, I'm not phobic or anything but it's still not my favourite thing as while I can say the words well enough, I'm never sure where I'm supposed to be looking or if it's okay to make eye-contact and if so, with whom. Talking to individuals is challenging enough really." She took a breath. "It's not even been a month yet and I miss you something dreadful. My sister's already teasing me about pining and asking if I'm _sure_ you're not my boyfriend."

"Want to visit in August," Xanxus admitted; "things are quiet work-wise and it gets far too hot, so a few days in England would be nice."

"I would love to see you," his Cloud agreed, "but at the same time I can't really host you at home; we don't have the space."

"Wasn't expecting you to," he replied instantly; "planning on booking into a hotel a town or so away from where you live, so we could go out and do whatever. Or not; whatever you're comfortable with." He was well aware she probably wouldn't be comfortable introducing him to her family, considering the kinds of private things they'd talked about and him being in organised crime on top of that. Never mind that he didn't look _anything_ like the kind of person a regular middle-class couple would be happy to have hanging around their daughter.

"I do want to introduce you to my parents, if only so they don't feel like I'm hiding you from them," Florrie admitted a little ruefully, "because that would make them worry more. I'm pretty sure that after seeing me interact with you my dad will stop being so concerned and let us get on with things, so better to make sure they don't think we're hiding things."

"Even though we are." She certainly hadn't breathed a word of anything Guardian-related to them, seeing as it was all tangled up in the 'organised crime' thing.

"Even though we are," she agreed. "But we're not hiding the nature of our relationship or doing any of the normal kinds of things that parents worry about their grown-up kids getting up to, so that should offset the issue slightly. I'm an adult now; I'm allowed my own life and secrets."

Xanxus wasn't technically an adult yet despite having been legally such for some time now; not much longer to wait though. "Will book a hotel then."

"I'm looking forward to seeing you; I'm sure my siblings will be horrendously nosy so we'll have to arrange to be elsewhere for most of the time," Florrie mused. "We could take the train to see some museums in nearby towns or just pick somewhere nice for a walk and sit in a few tea shops."

"Like to see your university." So he'd know where she was and have a head-start on hunting her down on later visits.

"I'm sure that can be arranged." His Cloud paused. "Feeling better now?"

"Yeah. Love you." Listening to her really had helped keep him in the here-and-now and despite his aches he felt better than he generally did after this kind of thing. "Can I call again?"

"Try to avoid calling between eleven pm and seven am British-time if you can, but if it's an emergency don't hesitate. What _I_ would call an emergency, Xanxus, not your skewed standards."

He chuckled; Florrie was a great friend. "I'll keep that in mind."

"I love you too; take care."

"Promise. Bye."

"Bye!"

Xanxus hung up, slipped his phone into his jacket and rubbed his face with both hands, then got up to stretch. He should probably scrub down with a flannel before heading out again, so he didn't stink of sour sweat and could feel like he'd freshened up a bit. Then call Luss, because the Squad he was with had probably called the Sun Officer when he abruptly bailed on them –they were _supposed_ to notify Medical when somebody had a health-related problem in the field so it was Dumb to resent them for it– and saying what had happened now would mean less fussing once he got back. Luss would have had time to get it out of his system already and would be feeling reassured that Xanxus wasn't ignoring his own health.

He was tired and sore and not really in the mood for any more human interaction, but two minutes talking to Luss would mean he could then text the Squad, see how things were going and decide whether or not he wanted to get involved in the mission again. He was getting better all the time, so not letting this setback ruin things for him was key to the recovery process.

Although if in an hour he just wanted to lie down and sleep, he'd do that instead. No sense in overdoing it.

* * *

Dino waved a smiling goodbye to Tsuna and his friends, got into the back of the car with Romario and promptly lost the smile as the driver –Luca– set off towards the house he was now renting more-or-less permanently on the outskirts of Namimori.

Spending more time with his little brother and said little brother's Guardians should have made him more confident in the younger boy's ability to lead the Vongola and be a good Ally to Dino's own Family, but instead it was doing the opposite. Yes, Tsuna was a good kid who loved his friends desperately, but he was still adamant about not wanting to lead his Family and the more he heard his kōhai's reticence, the more Dino was becoming convinced that the other boy's reasons for not wanting to be a don were not as similar to his own reasons as he'd initially thought.

Dino hadn't wanted to be a criminal, hadn't wanted to hurt people and had wanted to be a good person. Getting tutored by Reborn and learning more about how the Cavallone worked had revealed to him that being a criminal meant very different things depending on the laws of where you lived and that criminality was not in itself an a moral failing; in some cases it was in fact moral to _oppose_ the law, such as when the law was corrupt and unfair. From there it had been a short step to realising that he could do a tremendous amount of _good_ with the Cavallone money and influence, improving the lives of the people in his Family's Territory, and that was where his complaints had stopped.

He didn't know what Tsuna's exact reasoning was, but that the teenager was still adamant about not wanting to lead the Vongola even after three years of tutoring wasn't very hopeful. He tried to coax a few details out of his little brother, but what he'd picked up suggested that Tsuna thought the mafia was all about shooting policemen in the street, extorting money out of already poor people and feuding with other Families over perceived slights, rooted in nothing more than greed and love of violence. Which, while there _was_ a grain of truth in there –mafiosi had done all of those things in the past and probably would again in the future– those were all exceptional and unusual outliers that got turned into movies and daytime television _because_ they were dramatic and visible to those outside the Underworld. Mostly the mafia was just doing the same kind of business as took place outside the Underworld, just without government oversight. There was still oversight and rules to be followed for the benefit and safety of all involved; those rules just weren't being set by civil authorities, partly because Flames could not be revealed to anybody in elected government positions of any kind so it wasn't _possible_ for Flame-related legislation to be passed.

The Vindice also banned Flame-Actives from becoming elected to any kind of government office, which was very rigorously enforced, so mafia influence on local government was limited to Latent relatives with those kinds of aspirations and oblivious civilians open to bribery. There was no shortage of the latter, so the former were relatively few and far between.

Dino had tried to explain this, but Tsuna still didn't seem to have grasped the specifics. The teenager was stuck on the fact that the mafia did not follow the laws laid down by the government and took that to mean that they didn't follow any kind of system at all. Or that the system they _did_ follow was inherently oppressive to everybody not a don; as though the laws set out by governments across the globe weren't designed to benefit those in power and oppress those without. That mafia might not be better, but it certainly was not any worse! Especially when someone with power was willing to use their wealth and influence for the betterment of those around them!

It didn't help that none of Tsuna's Guardians were familiar with the Underworld either. Smoking Bomb had assumed the position of Right Hand but had only been a pre-teen freelancer –oblivious to both the bigger picture and the fine details– when he was last in Sicily, Mukuro had experienced atrocities that the Underworld did not condone, but blamed the mafia regardless simply because his family had claimed they belonged to it and used the Underworld's treatment of them to justify their abhorrent actions towards their own children. The rest were either far too young to have any relevant experience –Lambo Bovino– entirely foreign, if peripherally aware of the Underworld in both concept and practice –Kyōya– or both foreign and completely civilian –the other three.

Takeshi and Chrome were both at least _trying_ to familiarise themselves with the Underworld generally and the Vongola Alliance in particular, but they were the only ones. Smoking Bomb assumed he already knew everything he needed to about the wider Underworld and the Alliance, Kyōya was very pointedly _not_ interested, Ryōhei couldn't see how any of it related to boxing so dismissed it as irrelevant to him, Mukuro could see the problems clearly but was gleefully looking forward to the inevitable collapse rather than wanting to mitigate the damage and Lambo was too young for it to be appropriate to burden him with the details or expect him to do anything about them.

So far as Dino could tell, all Tsuna wanted out of life was to get a low-level job of some kind where his ongoing struggle with school subjects wouldn't matter much and marry Sasagawa-chan. That Sasagawa-chan seemed utterly oblivious to his interest never got addressed; Tsuna was too shy to ever ask her outright, so never got the refusal that would enable him to move on.

That Don Vongola seemed to be ignoring his Heir's expectations and was clearly intent on ensuring Tsuna became Decimo regardless of feeble protests to the contrary boded incredibly badly. Tsuna simply was not qualified to lead a Family and worse, didn't want to _become_ qualified. Dino's little brother refused to even _think_ about his past interactions with mafiosi unless other people brought them up, and then he did his best to dismiss the subject as quickly as possible rather than reflect on what had happened and why.

Dino wondered how much of this Xanxus had known already when he suggested that Don Cavallone take the time to tell the prospective Vongola Decimo more about the Underworld generally and the Alliance specifically. Probably all of it; the Varia Boss hadn't got to where he was now by being oblivious or unobservant. It was galling that Xanxus had picked up on this despite the man barely interacting with Tsuna for any length of time; he'd seen it within days when Dino had been utterly oblivious despite _months_ spent in Namimori. With intuition like that it was no surprise so many were convinced the Varia Boss was a Vongola bastard.

Xanxus had always used to be an enigma to Dino, but he was rapidly becoming less so now that Dino was older and was spending more time with the physically younger man. The unexpected revelations concerning the Varia Boss's parentage and background almost two years ago had made several different points snap into focus and their interactions since then had shed further light on the other Sky.

Xanxus's first language was Sicilian; he'd likely spoken nothing else until he entered Don Vongola's care aged six. The teenager's Italian was excellent –as were the dozens of other languages he spoke– but in casual conversation on mundane matters the Sicilian snuck back in, along with the idioms and contractions that Dino was familiar with from those of his men from the poorest areas under his protection. Even the Varia Boss's nickname for him reflected his background: Xanxus called him _cavaddu_ , the Sicilian for 'horse.'

Dino never commented on the change; he was perfectly fluent in Sicilian as well so when Xanxus switched languages he followed suit. The Varia Boss was far more casual and friendly in his mother tongue and Dino appreciated the lack of deference; he didn't have many friends. Or any friends, really; not many people were willing to banter with him as equals without trying to use the familiarity as leverage in business matters later on down the line. Xanxus never bothered with that; oh he was excellent at politics, but he always made the meeting specifically _about_ politics if that was what he wanted to talk about and generally stuck to Italian for it. When they were just talking the closest the Varia Boss had ever come to currying favour had been to ask if his sweetheart could ride the horses at one of Dino's private stables for her birthday.

If Xanxus could find a pretty girl willing to have a relationship with him for most of a year then Dino certainly had a chance to find love; yes, Xanxus's sweetheart had been civilian so it had never been going to last, but the Varia Boss had been barely seventeen when he met her and it had probably been the first time he'd ever fallen in love, so it was understandable that it hadn't gone anywhere in the end. He'd still tried though and that more than anything else had helped Dino look past the façade and see the person behind the Varia Boss. Xanxus was a person who loved the Vongola, loved his subordinates as fiercely as they loved him and cared deeply about the Alliance, as well as having a soft spot for gentle and openly affectionate women.

If Dino could see the problems inherent to putting Tsuna in charge of the Vongola and the Alliance, Xanxus could see them too. That the Varia Boss had all but ensured Dino would put himself in a position to see those same problems firsthand was proof enough. He'd have to set up a meeting to make sure they were both on the same page.

* * *

Squalo hummed along with the radio as he showered, enjoying the cold water despite the way it made his scars ache. They ached far less now than they ever had before; Boss had somehow come up with a scar mitigation technique that Luss had approved for wider use, so at the tail end of Quiet Week Squalo had a session in Medical with Boss using Sky Flames on him that had reduced the surgical scars on and inside his chest –as well as on his back– to fine, barely-visible lines and massively reduced the keloid tissues around his stump as well. There'd been a corresponding improvement in mobility and a reduction in weather-related soreness and Squalo could not be happier about it; first the gene-therapy to make his new heart entirely his own and now even the scars were barely worth noticing? This was the best year he'd had in a long time –possibly ever– and it was barely halfway over.

Boss was also in a better place than he'd ever been, which was a big part of why Squalo considered this year to be in the running for 'best year ever.' Plus Levi was no longer prancing around being a nuisance, his Sky had a proper Cloud Guardian and Boss's relationship with Luss was slowly but surely progressing in the direction of becoming a proper Guardian Bond. That was almost a full set; not even Nono had a complete set of fully bonded Guardians so Boss was really doing incredibly well there.

Squalo would be very surprised if Chew Toy had Guardian bonds with any of his so-called Guardians; he wasn't bonded with the sword-brat or Mist-girl, and while there was a profound and very strong bond with Rokudo, it wasn't quite a Guardian bond. Possibly because Rokudo didn't want it to be; he didn't seem the type to be willing to commit himself, even if not committing meant always feeling like he was missing out. Then again, the issue could equally be with Chew Toy; trash seemed the type to have self-destructive bonding conditions or to instinctively reject potential bonds because he was afraid the people trying to get close to him were going to hurt him. Iemitsu hadn't done anybody any favours neglecting his son the way he had and the less said about Chew Toy's mother the better; trash wouldn't know a healthy relationship if it went down on one knee and proposed.

Boss was not in a much better position there, in all honesty, but Boss had Florrie and was at least _aware_ that his shitty upbringing had messed him up. Self-awareness might not make things any better but it was the first step to fixing the problem and Boss had gone considerably beyond that first step in the past year and change. Squalo was sure his Sky would only continue to improve; Boss was stubborn like that.

Squalo dressed, walked out into his office and checked the urge to demand what was going on as he noticed Boss sprawled along his couch. What had Florrie said, that Boss got defensive about being a human being and actually wanting human contact sometimes? Yeah, Squalo could see it; Nono had probably used it to manipulate Boss somehow and it wasn't like Don Vongola's actual sons had been particularly nice people either. They certainly hadn't appreciated having a supposed bastard around the place, even though Squalo wasn't entirely sold that they'd been genuinely convinced that Boss was their father's. Realistically speaking, it had been more likely that Boss had been Nono's _grandson_ than his son; Boss had been born when Don Vongola was nearly fifty and both Enrico and Massimo had been in their twenties, with Federico just leaving his teens. With three unmarried adult sons knocking about it was vastly more likely that one of _them_ had sired a whoops baby with a prostitute than their father, who had been married to his work even before his wife died if the stories were anything to go by.

Rather than open up such a touchy subject Squalo took note of the fact that Boss was fully dressed and his go-bag was dumped at the far end of the couch; walked right in here after getting back from the mission then. "Voi, want breakfast?" he offered.

"Coffee and fruit," Boss muttered, not opening his eyes.

Squalo grunted an acknowledgement and headed downstairs to fetch the food; breakfast was a self-service buffet and actually available all day, since all the food was cold or easily heated in a microwave or under a grill. Hot breakfasts were possible, but had to be ordered from Housekeeping at least the day before or even scheduled weeks beforehand; Kitchen could whip up all manner of specialist dishes, but only with suitable prior notice. The shared coffee machine in the breakfast hall was so heavily Warded it was impossible to move or tamper with unless you were Housekeeping –necessary when there were Varia who'd like to make off with it for their own personal use– and while the fruit bowl did occasionally get poisoned, it was generally considered poor form. Mostly because you never knew who you might end up hitting and offended veterans hunting you down and doing terrible things to you was a very real hazard. Squalo had done a spot of that himself, to keep the newbies on their toes and teach them good manners.

Boss's latest mission had been in Australia; he'd be horribly jetlagged. Squalo however didn't mind letting his Sky nap on his couch all day so long as the other man kept the sarcastic commentary to a minimum.

* * *

"Wait, she _wants_ you to meet her parents?"

Xanxus shrugged, not turning around to look at the shark as he tried to think about the differences in packing for civvie trips. He was having to take a regular flight, which meant no obvious weapons and hiding his handguns in his hold luggage with a Ward to make them invisible to scans and metal detectors, as well as following all the annoying new rules about liquids in carry-on bags. "Says they'll worry less after meeting me."

"Voi, seriously?" Xanxus agreed with Squalo there; he'd have thought that meeting him would make Florrie's parents worry _more_ , not less. "Well, she'd know I suppose." A pause. "Voi, I just realised you've never met _my_ parents."

Xanxus snorted. "Met your grandpa." Delfino Superbi was who the shark would probably turn into once he was middle-aged and it would be both terrifying and hilarious; reminding Squalo how embarrassing he found his grandfather would be icing on the cake there.

"Voi! Grandpa's _terrible_ and anyway he's not a civvie," the shark complained. "And I was _trying_ to point out that we know jack shit about Luss's family background, Bel's parents are off being royal somewhere and Mammon's have probably been dead for years, so you've not met _any_ of your Guardians' parents before."

Yeah, the Varia wasn't really a place where people who were on good terms with their relatives usually ended up; there were a few exceptions of course, but most of the Varia who were still on speaking terms with family members had those relatives in the Underworld. Mostly. There were a few dozen who sent part of their pay-check home through one of Mammon's shell companies, masquerading as respectable law-abiding employees, but they were the exception rather than the rule.

"Does she have other family that you're meeting? Other than parents, I mean?"

"Siblings," Xanxus said shortly, folding another shirt into his case. "Sister and a brother; both younger." He was more preoccupied with the revelation that _all_ his Guardians had civvie parents; that was not usual. Then again, Ma had been civilian and who the fuck knew what his father had been. Part of him was tempted to say 'random civvie' and put Ma's insistence that his father was a Don down to delusions, but Skies were exceptionally rare and he was an unusually strong Sky; considering where he'd been born and probably conceived, it was actually _more_ likely that his father had been an Active Underworld Sky belonging to the Alliance. She'd been paranoid even before his Flames came out after all, so her delusions had probably been rooted in _something_.

Probably actually distantly related to the old fart, in fact, since he looked so much like Secondo; just not the asshole's son.

"Huh."

Xanxus glanced at his Rain. "What?"

"Bel's a younger sibling," shark said mildly. "I'm a younger sibling –well a middle sibling– and Luss and Mammon both give me that 'only child' vibe. Even you're technically an only child despite getting shoved into the 'younger sibling' box later on. But your Cloud's an oldest sibling."

Squalo had older siblings? "Get to the point, shark."

"Voi, not really a point," the Rain said idly. "Just thought it was interesting. Chew Toy's passel of fools are all only children bar the Sun-moron, who has that creepy younger sister he lies to about everything that Chew Toy wants to fuck, and Smokescreen who's basically a younger sibling since he ran away from home long before Don Bianchi had another child."

The old fart was an only child; so were Coyote and Visconti, if Xanxus remembered correctly. Shark was right; that _was_ interesting. More things in common that didn't really get considered, but would have an effect on how a person saw the world and therefore the subsection of the wider population that they'd feel a greater kinship for.

"Throw the idea to the Flame psychology geeks, see what they make of it," he suggested, sliding the gifts he'd brought for his Cloud on his latest mission into the end of his case. "Make a fun research project if nothing else." Summer was slow and anything to keep the Varia busy was always a good idea; the devil really did make work for idle hands, idle assassin hands in particular. A summer project to argue over would be just the thing to keep them out of the worst of the trouble they might otherwise get into.

"Will do, Boss; call me once you've met them, voi? I'm curious."

"Of course." Treating this like a political foray probably wasn't the right approach, but Xanxus wasn't sure how _else_ to come at it; he'd never been introduced to other people's parents before. Usually people already knew who he was, complete with prejudices already fully formed. This was a new experience and a rather laughably normal one, all things considered.

It'd work out. From what Florrie had told him, her parents had grown up in rather shitty circumstances and were doing their best to become better people. He just had to be honest, making it clear that he was letting their daughter set relationship terms and that he was in it for the long haul. Those things weren't going to change, no matter _what_ her parents thought, so they'd have to get used to him.

* * *

"Xanxus!"

He didn't even make it to knocking on the front door of the house at the address Florrie texted to him; his Cloud barrelled out of the front door as he walked in the garden gate and threw herself at him, forcing him to catch her and lift her up for a proper hug or else have her head slam into his ribcage.

"Good to see you too," he told her after exchanging kisses, hugging her tightly.

"I have missed you so much it's ridiculous," she muttered in his ear, relaxing into his arms while clinging to his shoulders like a monkey. "Is this a Guardian thing? Because after the first two weeks I got horribly restless; I've been going on long walks nearly every _day_ just to settle."

"Might be," Xanxus admitted; he didn't exactly know how Florrie defined her Territory, but Clouds who had a physical Territory generally didn't like to be away from it for very long. If becoming her Sky meant he'd become part of Florrie's Territory, well… things would certainly get rather more difficult.

"Going to introduce your boyfriend, Florrie?" asked a cheeky female voice from the house; Xanxus glanced up to see a fair-skinned face with darker freckles and spectacles surrounded by wavy reddish hair peering around the doorframe.

Florrie groaned. "He's my _friend_ , Chickie; we're not dating."

"Yet you ran out of the house to throw yourself at him; yeah, riii-ight," the redhead said mockingly, her grin huge and gleeful.

Florrie bashed her head against Xanxus's shoulder, but interestingly did not let her younger sister provoke her into anger or violence; most of what he was reading off her was resigned annoyance and grudging fondness.

"Get inside so we can introduce ourselves!" another voice demanded from further into the house. Florrie obligingly wriggled out of Xanxus's grip, grabbed his hand and led him up the path towards the front door.

"Come on; the sooner you meet everybody the sooner we can leave."

"Aw, Florrie don't be like –good grief he's _huge_!" The redhead gaped up at him as he stepped over the threshold; Xanxus smirked evilly.

"Midget," he enunciated clearly, making eye-contact; she was a good eight centimetres shorter than Florrie and visibly narrower through the hips, although there didn't seem to be any significant difference in upper body shape.

The redhead sucked in a loud breath through her teeth and narrowed her eyes. "Oh it's _on_ , asshole."

"Chickie," Florrie sighed, poking her sister –definitely her sister; there was a considerable resemblance once you looked past colouring– in the shoulder.

"Chickie?" Xanxus asked, not bothering to hide his amusement. He'd thought he misheard the first time, but clearly not.

"It's a family name," Chickie said snootily, folding her arms defensively as she slid sideways out of the doorway.

"Short for Charlotte," Florrie explained, dragging Xanxus into the house's sitting room.

* * *

The first and most hilarious revelation of meeting his Cloud's family was that she was the second-tallest person in it: the only one taller than her was her younger brother Alfie –all the diminutives were a bit weird to him but clearly they liked them– who looked maybe fifteen at the very oldest and had that stretched look that teenagers got halfway through a growth spurt. Florrie was taller than _both_ her parents by several centimetres, and her father was in fact slightly shorter than her mother.

The second revelation was that, going by feel, his friend's mother was a rather depressed and low-powered Sun and her father had middling reserves yet was possibly the angriest Lightning the Varia Boss had ever met, which was saying something; he was also the Lightning with the best friendly façade Xanxus had ever met either.

Except it wasn't actually a façade; the man was _genuinely_ pleased to meet him. The anger was just _there_ , a constant background hum that everything else was overlaid on.

Did _he_ feel like this to other people?

Suddenly Florrie's matter-of-fact fearlessness in the face of his outbursts made far more sense; she probably subconsciously filtered out a lot of angry body language as unthreatening, because her father was always pinging as slightly angry yet kept it under iron control.

"Please call me John," Florrie's father told him, shaking his hand warmly. "Florrie's told us a lot about you, Xanxus; thank you for looking out for her while she was in Italy."

"Welcome; wasn't any trouble," Xanxus managed as the man released him; she'd _talked_ about him? To her parents? When? What had she _said_?

"Frances," Florrie's mother said, leaning up from the sofa to offer his her hand for a quick shake before going back to her embroidery. Xanxus took that to mean introductions were over and glanced over to catch Florrie's eye.

"Dad, Xanxus wanted me to show him the university."

"Did you charge your phone?"

"Yes Dad; I've got my travel pass and I'm taking my coat in case it rains."

"Don't forget your keys!"

"They're in my handbag, I'm not going to!"

"Bye Xanxus! See you again sometime!"

Xanxus let himself be hustled out of the front door again and out the garden gate before speaking up again. "You told them about me?"

His Cloud glanced up at him. "I was living alone in a foreign country and made a friend; why wouldn't I talk about you to my family?" She grinned. "It was mostly good, I promise."

"Only mostly?"

"You're very confusing sometimes; I had to ask my dad and brother for advice on guy things a few times to make sure I wasn't misinterpreting or missing subtext."

"Never mentioned that." Xanxus wasn't sure how he felt about it.

"Xanxus, I tried to bring my family into the conversation _dozens_ of times over the past year but you kept deliberately changing the subject; I guessed family generally was a touchy subject and didn't want to push."

That was true, she had mentioned her family every now and then and he'd deliberately not pursued the subject every single time.

"Besides, I never _once_ brought up anything you told me in confidence," Florrie said firmly. "Just general stuff, since they were a bit worried about the fact that the only person I was interacting with on a regular basis was a guy. I think they were worried I'd think I was in love or something and drop out of university to get married and never come home at all. Or get my heart broken and come home depressed."

"Not that you'd form a lifelong spiritual bond with a career criminal then."

His Cloud actually cackled. "Nooo," she drawled after recovering her composure; "that never came up, oddly enough."

Xanxus smirked. "I wonder why."

Florrie punched his arm lightly. "You're dreadful. Do you want to take the bus or the train?"

"Train." It would be faster and they'd spend less time in a confined space with a bunch of strangers.

"Train it is then."

* * *

After walking around the university campus for over an hour Florrie led the way back into the centre of town for lunch, then on to a small independent tea shop a few streets away situated in a tall, narrow building. They were the only people sitting on the second floor, which gave Xanxus the opportunity to set up a touch of Mist-security before settling on the sofa next to his friend and ask a few important questions. He wanted his privacy guaranteed, in case something personal came up.

"Tell me more about your family?"

Florrie eyed him while pouring herself a cup of tea, but settled back on the sofa and answered anyway. "Where d'you want me to start?"

"Siblings." He'd barely seen minutes of her interacting with her sister and brother but it had been enough to prove that her relationship with them was dramatically different to what he and his brothers had had. Not that they'd actually been _his_ brothers at all.

"Chickie is sixteen," his friend began, "and she's very sporty; takes after Mum that way. Football, netball, hockey; if it's a team sport involving running around outside then she's all for it. Very sociable too, but terrible at maths and more technical stuff; she's awful at budgeting and an impulse buyer, especially of clothes. She's got no sense of what colours look good together and loves pink, so she generally looks cheerful but garish. She wants to be a teacher when she finishes school."

Xanxus slotted that around the brief impression he'd got of the red-haired Sun in glasses who'd teased his Cloud on the doorstep; it fitted very well.

"We've always shared a bedroom and it's been a complete nightmare at times," Florrie went on pensively, "but she mostly respects my space now and I mostly respect hers, so we get on okay. She called me a lot while I was away to complain about having to help Alfie with stuff because I wasn't there to do it and our parents making her take on more chores around the house, as well as begging me to help her with her assignments, so I'm pretty sure she missed me."

A Sun and a Cloud in a confined space together? Xanxus was amazed there hadn't been a murder committed. "And your brother?"

"Alfie's fourteen; he likes solo sports like cycling and skiing, but really hates the competitive aspect. He wants to enjoy the actual activity, not accidentally end up bitter enemies with somebody he'd thought of as a friend after outperforming them. He does karate too, but as self-defence and won't take part in contests. He's sort of between me and Chickie in social stuff; he can do it very convincingly –unlike me– but it's mostly a show, so he doesn't get much out of it. He's got a few close friends and all the many other people he knows are just friendly acquaintances. He's got a keen sense of style and dresses very classily, but he's also not good with colours. Unlike Chickie however he _wants_ to look good, so he generally asks me to help him there; I'm the only one in the family who can tell what looks good colour-wise."

"You wear all kinds of unfashionable stuff," Xanxus pointed out.

"Maybe so, but the colours look good on me, don't they?" Florrie pointed out. "Fashion's just people wanting to make money; I'd rather be comfortable and look nice."

"I guess. You get on with your brother?"

"Better now than when we were younger," Florrie admitted; "it was hard being a teenager with a five-years-younger brother demanding my attention all the time, but now he's getting stuck into puberty we're more on the same page. I read to him most nights all through my last year in Sixth Form, because he was finally getting interested in books but our parents were too busy to read to him; Alfie's not a very confident reader but he does like stories. He's been borrowing more of my books while I was away though, so he's clearly getting more into it."

"How d'you know?" She'd been away, so couldn't have noticed the books vanishing from her shelves.

"He asked me which ones I thought he'd like, so I gave him a starting point and he's gone on from there."

Her brother was a Cloud like she was, if possibly a more 'normal' social-type Cloud by her description. It was a little odd that a Sun and a Lightning had managed to produce two Cloud children, but maybe there were more Clouds in the wider family? Affinities did skip a generation like that sometimes. "Old fart already had sons when he took me in," he volunteered quietly.

"How did his wife take that?" Florrie asked dryly, looking unimpressed.

"Was dead; had been for a decade," Xanxus specified; that was one thing he was grateful he _hadn't_ had to deal with. Being a bastard had been bad enough, but nobody had been gunning for him as evidence of the old fart's 'infidelity' or blaming him for it. "My supposed brothers were all well over ten years older than me; more than twenty years older in Enrico's case." Massimo had been twenty-seven when Xanxus had been brought into the Iron Fort aged six and Federico had been twenty-four; Enrico had been thirty. None of them had been even slightly welcoming.

Florrie didn't say a word, picking up her cup and saucer, blowing on her tea and watching him with receptive eyes.

"I… I wanted them to like me." He'd been so _hopeful_ at the prospect of actually having more family; so fucking naïve despite knowing already that nothing ever came for free. "They didn't." They'd taken advantage of his eagerness to get along and then mocked it behind his back, like being a kid meant he was _stupid_. "I was competition; insulting competition, because I was six and they were adults and the old fart hadn't picked any one of them to succeed him yet, but I was already more skilled with Flames than they'd been at twice my age. So I decided I'd show them I was _better_ than they were and make sure _I_ got picked to lead the Family."

"Hence your ambitions," his Cloud murmured, sipping her tea and then setting the cup back down on the table; still a bit too hot then.

"Yeah." He'd had it all to gain and nothing to lose and he'd proved he _was_ better than they were; by the time he was fifteen the entire Alliance had been buzzing with how he was stronger than Massimo, more politically adept than Enrico and had better instincts than Federico, for all he still didn't have a single Guardian. "Made it too; outperformed them in every area and the Alliance _wanted_ me to inherit. But…" He swallowed hard.

"It was all lies," Florrie offered when he couldn't shape the words.

"Yeah." Everything had been lies, his entire _life_ was a lie and there had been nothing left. Nothing but pain and betrayal and alienation. "Then when the old fart finally let me out of the ice, they were all dead." Leaving Xanxus to compete with a pathetic civvie who wasn't even a _tenth_ as competent as Massimo on his worst days, but was going to get the Family _anyway_ regardless of Xanxus outperforming him in every possible area. "I –I didn't even _like_ them most days– but–"

Florrie leaned into him, wrapping an arm around his back. "You thought of them as your family and you miss them," she murmured gently. "You're allowed to miss them; you were used to them being there."

"Yeah." Yes, that was it exactly; he'd been used to them being there, had expected them to go _on_ being there, even after he displaced them, so he could gloat and they had to eat crow and recognise him as being better than them at everything. But they hadn't been there and weren't ever going to be there again. He'd been unfrozen to find the only people left were him and the old fart and the Vongola was going to Sawada's spawn. Not even to Sawada –which would have _burned_ but the man was at least vaguely capable– but his pathetic, oblivious, civilian _child_ who didn't even know what the Vongola _was_.

It had been like finding out he wasn't the old fart's son all over again.

He was _angry_! Why was he _crying_?!

Then again it didn't matter, not really; Florrie didn't care that he was getting tears on her shirt.

* * *

Squalo was running through sword forms in one of the larger training rooms –less scar tissue meant increased mobility and being able to practice the more acrobatic moves again– when Boss let himself in, leaning against the wall and watching. The Rain Officer ignored his Sky; it evidently wasn't urgent and he was enjoying himself. Boss didn't make any sarky comments either, so Squalo let himself sink completely into the sword forms, his focus narrowing to breath and motion and the burn of muscles that hadn't been stretched like this in far too long.

He became distantly aware along the way that Boss was very much enjoying the show –he'd have ignored that if he didn't have Florrie's voice in the back of his head reminding him that Boss thought he was hot– and had to remind himself that this was just training, warming up moves he'd not used in well over a year, and not at all the time for showing off. He did however pause for a drink, then swap out his regular sword for the urumi; it was a while since he'd picked it up and Delfina had professed an interest, so he wanted to make sure he was properly practiced with the flexible blade before getting his sister started on it.

It was another acrobatic form, made more dangerous by swinging around what was basically a sharp-edged metal whip. There were slow moves, pacing to herd your opponent one way or the other, and fast moves to strike an enemy down. The snake-quick decapitating strikes were the hard part; they took a sharp wrist movement that his prosthetic couldn't mimic, so he was stuck with just using his actual hand. Getting tangled up in his own hair was also a hazard, but Squalo hadn't done _that_ in over seven years now and was not about to ruin his record.

The air felt different now; Boss knew Squalo had picked up on his interest and then deliberately chosen to practice a sword form that let him showcase his speed and flexibility. Squalo knew that Boss knew he'd noticed and the Rain was deliberately not stopping or putting that certain flare into his moves that made it clear he was messing around rather than completely serious about his intentions. And Squalo _was_ serious; Boss was, well he was _Boss_ and if his Sky wanted him that way then Squalo's only caveat was that he'd rather put off sex until after Xanxus had actually hit eighteen.

"Shark," his Sky said eventually, voice low and compelling.

"Yes Boss?" Squalo replied, finishing his form and coiling up the urumi as he flicked his hair back and tugged his shirt collar further open; it might be the middle of the night but it was still August and almost two hours of intense exercise meant he was sweating like crazy.

His Sky came right up behind him; Squalo turned, looking up to meet his eye challengingly. He knew what Boss had been doing and Boss knew what he'd been doing; all that was left was finding out what his Sky was going to do about it.

Boss's thumb wiped a droplet of sweat off Squalo's temple; the Sky then lifted his hand to his mouth to taste and Squalo did not bother to smother his body's immediate reaction.

"Taste good, shark," Boss said softly, the tone almost but not quite a taunt. Squalo tossed the urumi off to one side and took a short step closer, so close their boots were almost touching.

"Something you wanted from me, Xanxus?" He asked steadily, taking care to keep his tone mild and his posture inviting so he didn't accidentally stray into anything that could be interpreted as dismissal or mockery.

His Sky stared at him, face going unreadable and Flames stilling for a moment then blooming into something wary but hopeful. Then he turned and walked out of the training room entirely.

Squalo couldn't honestly say he was surprised; Boss probably hadn't expected him to reciprocate like that. Tugging his shirt open the rest of the way down the Rain Officer walked over to the bench where his water bottle was waiting; he drank half of what was left and tipped the rest over his head, then grabbed his swords and headed back upstairs for a shower.

He'd made his position clear; ball was in Boss's court now.

* * *

September at the Varia always passed like a fever-dream, stretching impossibly long and full of surreal happenings that would get seriously questioned at any other time of year but weren't even worth mentioning because it was September. September was just Like That.

The reason September was Like That was that missions started _pouring_ in during the last week of August, so that by September first Information were already pulling shifts and sleeping in blanket nests on the floor of their operation room so as to get the load checked and passed on to Boss and the Officers as quickly as possible for distribution. There were also always too many missions for Squads to just pick the ones that matched their specialities; instead missions had to be sorted geographically so that a Squad or three could between them cover a dozen missions all in the same area over the course of a week or a fortnight, switching Squad members around between them according to the requirements of specific contracts. Of course missions out in more isolated locations got assigned to people _not_ dragged into the campaigns, which meant mixing and matching Squad members for the right balance since the ideal Squad would of _course_ be busy elsewhere.

The veterans called September 'social month,' because you had to laugh about it or else you had a complete meltdown from sheer stress. Mooks called it 'hell' as more mooks died in September than at any other time of year, barely half of them in the field. Nobody ever knew what was going on in September, not even the Officers; you didn't know even _half_ of what had happened in September until mid-October, by which point the dust had settled, everybody was finally catching up on sleep and Boss was making inroads on the mission reports and occasionally summoning people to his office to explain what the hell this squiggle meant and to untangle strings of typos. Typos that were sometimes a person's Name, thus dooming the new Varia member to a nonsensical appellation once September was done.

September was a trial by fire for the new General Managers and a test of patience for their more experienced colleagues; as the people responsible for the interpersonal side of their Divisions' smooth running, GMs were heavily involved in making sure that missions were assigned appropriately, that a Squad heading out had appropriately-skilled people for the mission assigned to them and that all those people were in good shape. September being what it was, this meant being in charge of last-minute substitutions, ensuring inter-personal friction within Squads was kept at a minimum and placating Medical when they were frothing at the mouth over how many sleep-deprived assassins were walking into doorframes and curling up on the carpets in public areas, snoring. While also taking the occasional mission of their own, being generally sleep-deprived and dealing with other pissy sleep-deprived assassins.

Squalo was spending half his time buried in the mission-sorting process alongside Boss, the other half chasing down equipment people hadn't given back and getting them to fess up to losing it or breaking it or what-have-you and all the time he didn't technically have but still needed to spend carrying out missions, because sometimes people paid extra to have the Second Sword Emperor off someone and other times a group of Squads in the field _needed_ an Officer to run herd on them for a few days as they juggled a massive mission load across six different countries, to make sure they got everything done without anything getting dropped.

Then in more of his nonexistent extra time he got dragged into resolving issues that those assassins involved weren't letting his new GM solve for them, which generally meant Squalo making sure all those present _really regretted_ not letting Joia solve their problems for them. He'd not got called on to fix things for Glace in nearly six years and everybody had clearly forgotten _why_ they'd all been perfectly happy to go along with what the current Rain Squad Leader had decided for them. Of course part of that was that Glace was more overtly terrifying than Joia, who being a sweetheart possessing the rare gift of actual common sense looked much easier to steamroll.

People forgot that Joia had been recruited by Kuchisake and was still one of her favourite people. They then tended to get reminded of this very pertinent fact far too late to carry out an effective escape and were left too shaken to warn anybody else. Yes, Joia _was_ nice, but he'd also been recruited out of the food service industry and had a very low tolerance for people who managed to press his 'self-righteous customer' buttons without actually having the protection of _being_ a customer. And the pleasure of setting 'the manager' on somebody and watching with a blissful smile as the fool who'd crossed him was ruthlessly demolished was something Joia still made a point of savouring, swooping in afterwards to crush whatever remained under his heel and toss it out of his office door.

By the time Squalo actually had the space to enjoy three entire sleep-cycles in a row without being woken up partway through any of them for whatever, it was October eighth and the blur of September was slowly starting to unravel, dropping facts and notable happenings into his brain at random moments. Not all of the memories made sense; had Maínomai _really_ turned Lima into a giant caterpillar for two hours? How on _earth_ had the recently-Named Mahi managed to end up Squad Leader when the Squad he'd been attached to in July was made up entirely of assassins with five or more years' experience? Yes, Köder's unfortunate run-in with that rabid bull had meant the Squad had to pick a new Leader and regroup _quickly_ but why on _earth_ had his sixteen-year-old cousin ended up in charge when the other three were all in their twenties?!

A mystery for another day, clearly; Köder would be in Medical until his bones were all mended and Luss was positive he wasn't about to succumb to rabies himself, so until then Mahi was in charge of Bait Squad. Who had decided they wanted to be Fish Squad now they had a different Squad Leader; Squalo was ignoring that though and Mahi being a Rain meant he could get away with it, since the Squad was now under his authority. Once Köder was released from Luss's clutches Mahi would need his own Squad, so the Rain Officer would have to make good use of the time to think about good combinations and who his oversized cousin worked well with. As well as push the teen through some more sword drills; he seemed to be having yet another growth spurt and would need the discipline.

Oh, and where had the kid following Lessi around come from? He didn't look any older than ten, so shouldn't he be in school?

* * *

Xanxus spent the ninth of October much as he had the previous week: engrossed in trying to make sense of September, as there had been too much happening in-house and abroad to take in the hows and whys of the various major events at the time, so he had to try and piece it together in the aftermath. Which meant reading reports, seeing who had done what and how, how people were adjusting to promotions and why they were having trouble if they were struggling. He knew that the shark's cousin had done a good enough imitation of the shark to get the veterans with him focused in the right direction, that the new Mist Officer clearly had a fondness for 'Alice in Wonderland' based on the blue caterpillar –from what he'd heard of that incident at least– and Alizeti's flamingo could in fact break ribs with a kick. But had Joia really used his penguin Box Weapon –named 'Happy' from what he could recall– as a paperwork delivery penguin? Memory said that it was in fact something that _had_ happened, not just a dream.

There was also looking over expense reports from mission expenditures and what had been damaged, fixed, used or trashed when it came to Equipment, which meant Xanxus found the report of how Kuchisake's massive Mist moths had eaten some fool's uniform trousers and boots, which should have gone to the shark or Luss, since Luss was in charge of Uniform and the shark of Equipment, so was placed into a different pile to send over later.

Some hours after not even bothering to be snippy enough to send his lunch back to the kitchen when it wasn't exactly as he'd wanted it, Xanxus realized it was close to five in the afternoon and that he didn't want to be in-house for whatever nonsense Nono might possibly cook up for his birthday tomorrow; previous birthdays in the Iron Fort when he was younger and right before the Ring Battles after he was defrosted meant he wanted no part in whatever celebrations might happen with or without prior notification. Surprise parties were not a thing he'd _ever_ like, especially not when they were one of the old fart's surprises. The fucker wasn't exactly a fan of bothering with little things like consent or advanced notice unless it was a business matter, and 'family birthdays' weren't business. Xanxus had no reason to believe Nono would do anything –he hadn't last year, for all the Varia Boss had avoided being at the Varia for most of the day regardless– but his instincts were all in favour of being out of reach for the next few days, even if there was still quite a bit of work to catch up on.

Eighteenth birthdays were significant milestones after all.

He didn't want to spend his birthday alone, but Florrie was away at university and he'd planned to talk to her tomorrow afternoon. Leaving Squalo here to field whatever messenger might stop by would be rude though –he'd done that enough already– so he could take the shark along.

It was easy enough to pull the shark out of his office and head down to the farmstead; the shark was understandably confused about why they were there when Florrie wasn't.

"Voi, who's living here now?" He asked, eyes tracking a wandering chicken and flicking over the other signs of habitation like tire tracks and fresh repairs.

"Me. Old man died. Bought the place, notified Housekeeping to help maintain it." It hadn't been that expensive either; cheap really, considering what Xanxus would have been willing to pay to own the place where he'd made so many happy memories with his Cloud Guardian.

"And having the chickens here is Housekeeping's doing; makes sense," the shark added, nodding. The lack of poisonous plants and absence of large felines that would think poultry was snack sized meant the chickens would survive longer than a week and probably lay well too.

"They've got plans for livestock too," Xanxus mentioned: "goats and probably something else. Nothing definite yet; real worth of the place is in the trees." He suspected Housekeeping was planning on expanding the orchard a little, as there had been saplings growing around and about from windfalls and Florrie had left the larger ones alone, simply clearing the smaller ones. Moving the bigger saplings out a bit would give them space to really thrive and more than double the size of the various crops once they were properly mature. Eighteen months down the line probably, rather than five years to a decade; Sun Flames could speed up plant growth so long as there were enough nutrients.

Squalo only nodded at that and followed him into the little farmhouse; all the living space was on the ground floor and the kitchen took up a third of it, leaving the other two-thirds divided between the sitting room, bedroom and bathroom.

Shark wandered into the sitting room, looking at where a few pieces of furniture had been but were now just empty space and shadows on the walls. The room did look a bit bare; Xanxus hadn't got around to having Housekeeping replace any of it yet, what with it having been September.

"Old man's son had his relatives come over and see if they wanted anything after signing. Didn't take much out of anywhere but the sitting room," the Varia Boss added. There was pretty much just the sofa left in the sitting room but the bedroom still had the bed and wardrobe and while the kitchen fittings were very dated, they were functional and had been left in situ _because_ they were so dated. "Food and drinks in the fridge; Housekeeping was told to stock it after September." Xanxus hadn't checked yet, but there should be something.

"So why are we here?"

Xanxus shrugged, feeling awkward. "Don't want to be at work for my birthday; have a feeling the old fart's going to try and spring something on me." He also wanted to do something about Squalo's oblique indication of interest, but wasn't sure how to bring it up.

"Eighteen," the shark mused; "he pulled shit on your sixteenth."

"Yeah." Xanxus did not actually remember much of that particular party; mostly he remembered seething on the plane to Japan afterwards, drinking whiskey like water and his Guardians pretending to sleep because that was all the privacy they could give him when they were trapped in the cabin with him. "Thought you'd rather avoid dealing with that."

The shark grinned. "Oh definitely; Luss can do it."

Lussuria was yet to wind down from the relentless insanity of September, so the old fart pulling this kind of shit would seriously push the Sun's buttons at a point when the other Officer was disinclined to be nice; brutality would be just as effective and far less effort.

Xanxus was almost sad he'd be missing it.

"So, drinks?" Squalo asked, heading past Xanxus back into the kitchen and opening the fridge. "No alcohol?" He added, turning back to where Xanxus was now paused in the doorway and raising an eyebrow.

"Might be wine in the pantry," Xanxus admitted; it didn't really feel right bringing alcohol here, not when he'd gone an entire year not drinking more than the odd glass of wine with Florrie. He'd only done that much because sometimes she bought wine to cook with and generally went with somebody's local recommendation, meaning the wine was in fact far _too_ good to just waste on cooking.

"Good steaks though," the shark went on, crouching, "and a tiramisu –with a post-it saying happy birthday– along with quite a lot of ricotta." A tiramisu? That was nice of them; those were a lot of work.

"Fruit and vegetables are probably in the pantry, along with fresh milk." It was October, so they'd keep just as well there as in the fridge and wouldn't get damp. There might be fresh pasta too; Housekeeping had caught on that he liked stuffed pasta as something to cook for himself, so now he had a hot plate and a pan in his office and written requests to the kitchens led to discreet deliveries of freshly-made ravioli for him to eat whenever he wanted.

Squalo straightened and crossed the kitchen to pull open the door of the pantry. "More than that, voi," he commented, glancing back over his shoulder at Xanxus. Walking closer, Xanxus could see what he meant: tins, bottled fruit and vegetables, salami and even a cured ham hanging from the ceiling, along with a wide range of different fruit and vegetables covering the upper shelves and a sealed plastic box containing several bags of flour. It seemed Housekeeping had seen fit to fill it up as it had been when Florrie was actually here.

Well, he'd actually done a bit of baking with Florrie and it wasn't like making bread was hard; kneading was even therapeutic. That was how she'd got him to have a go in the first place.

There was fresh pasta as well though, so he'd start there. Steak could wait until tomorrow.

* * *

Squalo watched, vaguely bemused, as Boss wandered around the kitchen pulling out pans and crockery, laying the table and setting salted water to boil for the ravioli. It was shockingly domestic, all the more so for Florrie not being here to act as a buffer. Then again, Boss had never really _had_ 'domestic' growing up, had he? He'd got from dirt-poor to the Iron Fort, where he wouldn't have been allowed to hang about in the kitchens and probably hadn't wanted to anyway. But Florrie had introduced their Sky to the simple pleasures of food preparation and the sense of accomplishment that came from producing a meal and he'd clearly taken it on board.

Also, Boss was cooking for _him_ as well as for himself. Squalo would be lying if he didn't admit to being both bemused and rather flattered.

He had a good idea of what his Sky's ulterior motives were for dragging him down here, but he wasn't going to assume anything; if Boss wanted something, he'd have to ask outright.

Waiting for Boss to articulate his intentions past teenage confusion and embarrassment would hopefully delay matters until tomorrow morning, when the Sky would be eighteen and things would be less complicated due to involving two consenting adults. Yes, there were barely six hours until Boss was _technically_ eighteen and it didn't really matter at this late point, but it was the principle of the thing!

Well, it was _mostly_ the principle of the thing; there was also watching his Sky squirm. Which was a new and extremely enjoyable experience, Squalo felt, especially when accompanied by good food. Fresh ravioli barely took seconds to cook so he then had the pleasure of sitting at the kitchen table opposite Boss, eating excellent food and pretending not to notice his Sky wrestling with his feelings.

Boss was bad at asking for things. A year back Squalo might have let Boss get away with _not_ asking, but after sixteen months of watching his Sky slowly and doggedly improving his own mental health the Rain Officer could see that being made to articulate things was really helping Boss get to grips with himself. Squalo could also see that Florrie had gone to considerable effort to encourage their Sky to ask for things –partly for her own benefit, since she couldn't just intuit based on Flames– and it wouldn't be considerate to ruin her efforts.

Squalo had every intention of saying 'yes' to everything bar sex –and saying yes to sex very enthusiastically just as soon as tomorrow rolled around– so it wasn't like Boss was risking anything by verbalising. Hell, Boss could probably _feel_ that he was entirely amenable to everything, but that just made asking more important; if you couldn't ask for the things you were almost certain you would get, how would you ever ask for the things that were less likely? And if you never asked, how would you ever get anything? Most people were crap at reading Flames, so wouldn't even know you wanted something, and half of them would be fine giving you whatever-it-was if you actually spoke up anyway.

"When did you buy the place?" Squalo asked, because he was curious and because he'd finished eating.

"End of August," Boss said after swallowing. "Only been down once since; gave Housekeeping a list of what I wanted them to not touch and they arranged everything else."

"So the house and the trees got left alone," Squalo deduced.

"And the garden, bar the necessary weeding and harvesting," Boss corrected him, finishing his own pasta and getting up to put his bowl in the sink. Squalo went and did likewise, then paused as the afternoon light revealed something odd.

"Something on your face, Boss." It looked like a smear of food just below his lower lip. Except that when the Sky reached up to rub his finger over it, it stayed where it was. Frowning, Squalo looked closer and suddenly realised what he was seeing.

"Voi, you're all over freckles! When did that happen?"

Boss huffed. "Scar mitigation causes freckling, shark; Luss can't work out why."

Now he was actually looking Squalo could see that yes, without the habitual Mist-trick Boss had faint freckles _all_ over his face and neck, scattered liberally everywhere the frostbite scars had been. "That didn't happen to _me_ when you fixed my scars," the Rain pointed out gleefully.

Boss's eyes narrowed and he shoved Squalo up against the wall, yanking his jacket and shirt up. "Voi, stop that!" Squalo protested sharply, shoving at the much larger man.

His Sky glared at him but did let go and step back.

"Voooi! Want me to get naked you _ask_ first," Squalo said vehemently, poking Boss in the chest for emphasis. The not-quite-eighteen-year-old rolled his eyes, but his Flames twinged with awkward embarrassment.

"Want to see your scars, shark."

"Since you asked, fine." The Rain Officer unzipped his jacket and tugged it so it dropped off his shoulders to the floor, then unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged gracefully, letting the material slide down his back and arms to bunch around his elbows; feeling Boss react to the strip tease was a lot of fun. "Enjoy."

His Sky huffed softly, leaning down in a half-crouch to peer at the now very fine, faded marks decorating Squalo's chest; the central line down his sternum where Luss had cut him open to put his new heart in, the messy curve just to the left which had a matching mark on his back where the Vindice had impaled him, the shorter, jagged scars on his neck and shoulders from the aftermath of the Rain Battle and various older and differently-sized marks all over his torso and arms from a range of other fights, some spars, some not.

They were all thread-thin and nearly invisible now and none of them caught anymore. It was very nice to ache less whenever a thunderstorm blew in.

"How on…" Boss tilted his head to glare at him. "What the hell? Luss spent _weeks_ trying to figure out why I kept freckling and couldn't pin it down, yet when we do the _exact same process_ on you nothing happens?!"

Squalo smirked. "Flames, maybe?" he offered carelessly. "I'm a Rain and you're a Sky." He paused. "Unless it's because of you constantly using Denial over your scars and that's interfering."

Boss stiffened like he'd been poked with a pin, eyes going distant for a moment before he straightened up and irritably smoothed his hair out of his face with both hands. "Of-fucking- _course_ ; Flames take time to dissipate and Sky Flames slow the process. Shit."

"You'll have to walk around with the freckles showing for a few months to get them to go away," Squalo deduced, letting his amusement linger in his voice. Somebody would definitely take photographs and he wanted copies.

Boss glared at him. "Not that funny, shark."

"Kuchisake's going to coo over you; they're _adorable_ voi." They really were; they softened Boss's face considerably, blurring the intimidating symmetry of his features and distracting from the bloody scarlet of his irises. The overall result could even be called cute.

His Sky took a menacing step forwards, leaning down until he was almost nose to nose with Squalo. Squalo tilted his head up, keeping his smirk firmly in place; if he leaned forwards just a little he could kiss Boss square on the lips.

"You want to say that again?" the Sky demanded softly.

Squalo let himself really react to the fact that somebody he was sexually attracted to was crowding him against a wall, enticing possibilities flashing through his mind as Boss noticed him reacting and swiftly shifted gears from annoyance into physical want. "Good look on you, Boss," the Rain murmured, his voice dropping a little. "Or can I use your name here?"

Boss shivered. "You can use my name, shark," he agreed quietly.

"Xanxus." Squalo lingered over the name, watching his Sky's pupils expand lustfully. "You've always been incredibly hot, but the freckles soften it a bit. Make you look more attainable."

"Want to have me, shark?"

Squalo let his eyes wander slowly down his Sky's body then back up again to meet those glorious sanguine eyes. "When you're eighteen, maybe," he drawled, enjoying the irritated tic in the larger man's eyebrows.

"It's my birthday _tomorrow_ , shark," Xanxus pointed out long-sufferingly.

"I'm twenty-four and you're not a legal adult yet; I feel skeevy seducing a minor," Squalo admitted breezily, thoroughly enjoying his Sky's mounting sexual frustration.

"How about me seducing _you,_ shark?" Xanxus demanded, pressing in closer to growl right into the Rain's ear.

"Go ahead," Squalo invited in a taunting undertone, letting his lips brush his Sky's neck just below his ear, "but I'm not touching your dick until tomorrow and you don't get to touch mine either."

Xanxus pulled back for a moment's eye contact, then buried both hands into Squalo's hair and leaned in for a greedy open-mouthed kiss. The Rain reciprocated fiercely, wrapping his left arm around his Sky's neck and splaying his right hand over the larger man's chest, finding Xanxus's nipple and teasing it through the shirt.

His Sky untangled a hand from his hair to slide down his spine to his ass, tugging off the shirt on the way down and closing fingers around his thigh, lifting him up just enough to slide a thigh between his legs and then pinning Squalo to the wall. "Can work with that," Xanxus agreed, voice so low it sent shivers up Squalo's spine, "unwrap you properly tomorrow."

Squalo shifted his weight for leverage, leaning on the arm around his Sky's shoulders to pull himself up and away from the cock pressing against his through two layers of leather. "Not getting you off until _tomorrow_ , Xanxus," he specified, leaning in to nip warningly on his Sky's ear.

"Tease," Xanxus accused, but the hungry roar of his Flames under his skin did subside sulkily as the grip on Squalo's thigh loosened and the Sky turned around to lean back against the wall, giving the Rain more space to work with.

"I'll make it up to you in the morning," Squalo promised, dragging his teeth slowly down the side of Xanxus's throat and relishing every twitch and shiver. "D'you have freckles on your cock?"

"Yes," the Sky admitted cautiously.

"Good. I want to lick them; _all_ of them." He wanted to see his Sky splayed out naked on a bed and watch the man's muscles ripple as Squalo ran his mouth and tongue over all those faded scars.

His Sky twitched under him. "Want to fuck you, shark," Xanxus admitted hoarsely.

Squalo shuddered at the idea of being pinned under his Sky with the other man's cock filling him up. Or riding his hips. "No lube, no condoms, not happening," he managed; he had absolutely zero objections to getting fucked but he wanted to enjoy it and not wake up half-crippled for three days afterwards. STDs were also no fun and to be avoided; safe habits and all.

"Another time then," Xanxus agreed huskily, tugging lightly on Squalo's hair so he tilted his chin up and leaning in for another messy kiss.

Oh yes. There would be _plenty_ of other times if Squalo had any say in the matter; he wanted to fuck Xanxus too. And introduce his Sky to the brain-melting intensity of delayed orgasms. And a lot of other fun bedroom activities, provided Xanxus was up for them. Having a secure place away from the rest of the Varia to have sex in would make it much more likely that his Sky would be willing to try new things.

And honestly, penetration wasn't the be all, end all of sex; pleasure was the goal. He should probably take the lead, since he doubted Xanxus had planned to go this far so fast. His Sky didn't even have condoms and those were stocked in even the Varia's smallest first aid kits, same with pads, salt tablets, supplies for stitching wounds, a small range of general antidotes and a miniature epi-pen, in addition to everything else that was standard to most other first aid kits.

"Any objections if I want to pin your hands above your head and count all your freckles with my tongue in the morning, voi?"

Xanxus shuddered in response, eyes fluttering closed. "No. Go ahead," his Sky breathed out and Squalo felt the 'I trust you' right under it.

Which was why Squalo was not going to violate said trust by going against his previously stated word. "I'm going to take the couch, you take the bed." Less chance of wandering hands deciding to leap at the chance the second it was past midnight.

"Don't trust me shark?" Xanxus mock-sulked, Flames wavering between wanting to press further, glee and insecurity.

"Not that, voi," Squalo replied, not sure how to explain that he didn't quite trust himself to hold to his principles till tomorrow if his cock got free by his own doing or Xanxus's. Tomorrow really could not arrive fast enough. "Get some rest," he added, softening the words because they both knew what September was like and were still recovering from it. Controlling a quick kiss –deep enough to make the other want more and not long enough to satisfy any of that longing– he set his feet back on the floor and teased his Sky with, "you'll need the energy."


	2. Chapter 2

**Pick up the pieces (and move on)**

Xanxus woke up groggier than he was used to; all the teasing and promises last night had made it difficult to fall asleep, despite the lingering exhaustion from September. He had needed to get himself off twice before his mind would settle and doing so had done nothing to or for his Rain, as the damn shark had dropped into a sound sleep the minute he was comfy under the blankets on the ancient sofa.

Shark was awake now –and in the kitchen– but Xanxus wanted to clean up properly before breakfast rather than settle for a quick wash with a wet flannel. The mirror in the bathroom still had condensation on it despite the open window, so Squalo had showered already. Proof that he really _had_ needed the sleep; the shower noise and associated creaking from the plumbing hadn't woken him up.

Coming out of the shower, he dried off and wrapped the towel around his waist, not bothering with clothing. They'd be taking it off again soon anyway, so there was no point in it. Shark really didn't mind the idea of sex with him, had wanted it but as far as Xanxus could understand that the delay had been something of a technicality for putting off doing so, just as the principle of the thing since however many hours it was between then and now wasn't going to make him more mature or worldly; just an arbitrary ma–

–Shark was wearing nothing but a towel in his kitchen. A _small_ towel. Xanxus felt his blood drain fast enough to make him lightheaded and so, so hard.

"Coffee?" Shark asked as though he was making normal workplace-conversation and Xanxus nodded, took the mug from Squalo's hand, lifted it automatically to his mouth and felt the coffee burn his tongue.

The pain at least kicked his brain into functioning, so Xanxus was able to notice a plate of breakfast laid out on the table for him; nothing fancy, but filling. Shark had turned back around to fix his own plate and grab forks so probably hadn't noticed Xanxus's brain stop functioning for a few seconds there.

Xanxus sat down, took a fork and started eating the scrambled eggs; shark wasn't that bad a cook, but had gone light on the seasonings. Shark was eating too now, which made part of his brain mourn how sitting down would make tearing that towel off so much harder and the rest of it grateful that he could think again because eating wasn't sexual.

"So before anything else happens, limits voi. Because sex is supposed to be enjoyable and if you're not enjoying and you don't consent to what's happening, it's not sex and not fun."

Xanxus couldn't say anything against that, so just nodded.

"No penetration without lube and a condom; Luss has pamphlets that explain why if you don't already know. I'd like some advanced notice if you'd like to do that, so as to minimize any pain while stretching or so that you can prepare. A little pain elsewhere is fine, but not in my ass. I don't mind the use of teeth but I don't want to be bitten and I'm fine with having my hands bound but not my legs or feet. Blindfolds are negotiable. Gags are not. Not a fan of dirty talk, because too many people use it as an excuse to insult and humiliate their partner. Not into humiliation, violence, breath-play or pet-play but role-play is negotiable. Costumes are iffy but generally no." Shark turned steadily pinker as he spoke, but had maintained his distance and professionalism aside from that. "Those fine with you?"

And now it was his turn to turn pink. Shark's limits were reasonable: safe sex practices, respect your partner, treat them well and everything else was negotiable, more or less. "That's fine."

"Voi, any boundaries I should know about?" Squalo had a particular look in his eye that said he was just being a gentleman shark to make sure he wasn't going to get interrupted while devouring what he wanted later.

"Be careful around my neck with your hands, safe sex is preferred and wanting advanced notice is understandable." Xanxus's previous experience with Gwasgedd before he was frozen meant he wasn't a virgin and knew he liked getting pegged from the one time they'd done that shortly before the end of the fling, so it wouldn't be that different with a cock. "I think I won't mind being bitten so long as I'm not chewed on and mauled." And this was a lot more difficult to think about when you had to imagine scenarios and react before saying anything. "No humiliation, violence or dirty-talk for much the same reasons. Hand binding is fine but I don't know anything else for definite. I know I'd like to fuck you out in the open once, wearing my last Carnival costume, but I'm not sure about dressing up outside of that."

Shark reacted to that a _lot_ more than Xanxus thought he would; shark would enjoy that.

Squalo also regained his equilibrium faster than Xanxus had believed he would; "To bed voi; I've got plans and lots of freckles to count."

* * *

"Officer, there's a messenger from Don Vongola waiting downstairs."

Luss did not look up at Fal from Bait Squad's report of how Köder had gotten his broken ribs, shoulder, arm, foot and sternum; a bull, seriously? Trust Köder to find a rabid bull; at least his Squad had instantly recognised the likelihood of rabies, used the vaccine and immunoglobulin present in their Field Aid kit and called Medical for additional advice as soon as they had a phone signal again. The Squad had even notified the owner of said bull, so steps could be taken to dispose of it if treatment wasn't possible; Luss however was not a vet and the bull was not his problem.

"Why tell _me_ , sugar?" He demanded tartly, eyes sliding over to his patient's blood screen report. The virus was almost entirely purged, but 'almost' wasn't good enough; he couldn't use Flames to speed the formation of collagen bridges in Köder's broken bones until the virus was completely gone, or else the Activation might provoke a relapse. Luss was going to have to wait another week, to give the immune system time to finish clearing it out.

"Boss and Captain are out, Officer."

Luss sighed, letting the pages flop pointedly onto his desk. It was Boss-honey's _birthday_ , of course he was out. That he'd taken Squ with him was sweet, but it left the Sun Officer to deal with official nonsense when he had a mountain of Medical paperwork to sign off on as well as his Division's regular mission reports and various Uniform requests. "Fine, sugar; which room?"

"The crucifixion room, Officer." That was the little waiting room for official Alliance and Allied messages that were _not_ requesting to commission an assassination; mostly people hoping for Boss-honey's presence at social events. The room had a life-sized and very vividly realistic fresco frieze of Christ and a range of other saints being crucified right around its walls, which gave it its name; messengers sitting in the room generally preferred to look at their own feet rather than the decoration, which was a bit sad really when the art was such high quality.

The Sun Officer rose to his feet and flicked his fringe back. "I'll be right down, sugar; shoo."

Fal shooed, palpably relieved that his Officer hadn't snapped at him for interrupting. Lussuria sighed, downed his half-empty cup of cold coffee and set off downstairs; the sooner this was dealt with the sooner he could go back to doing important things.

* * *

"Don Vongola requests his son's presence at a birthday dinner in his honour this evening at six," the messenger recited, tone perfectly echoing the nuances of Don Vongola's speech patterns to the point that Luss could _hear_ the man in his head, "so that gifts can be given and time spent together as is appropriate for family."

The Sun Officer felt rage bubbling up inside him and knew his smile had gone thin and sharp. "My, such short notice!" He crooned. "Don Vongola would do well to remember that other people generally make their own arrangements on such occasions; it so happens that Boss is unavailable. He has been out of the building since yesterday," –judging by the height of his and Squ's Names on the 'Out' board– "so next time Don Vongola wishes to spend some time with his 'son,' he might consider issuing the invitation at least a fortnight in advance? So that Boss can ensure he has no conflicting commitments."

Of course few people in the Alliance would excuse themselves if they _did_ have a conflicting booking; they were more likely to cancel on the earlier booking and bow to Don Vongola's summons. That was no excuse though! Demanding people's presence at barely half a day's notice was _shocking_ behaviour!

The messenger looked rather taken aback. "Is that the official response?" He queried weakly; Alliance messengers were trained to memorise what they heard, to later repeat it back to whoever the message was intended for, word for word and inflection for inflection. They also delivered letters, but some things were not written down. For a range of reasons.

"It is indeed; from Lussuria, Sun Officer and Guardian to the Varia Boss." He was almost fully bonded now, poised right on the precipice overlooking that unbreakable connection and Luss _wanted_ it. He'd been almost resigned to never bonding after so long without anything changing but then Florrie had come along and Boss-honey had started reaching out, started _healing_ and actually letting people _help_ him and the Sun had felt himself being _let in_. It was so _hard_ not pushing things, letting Boss-honey set the pace, but they were almost there and Luss _ached_ for that last half-step to be taken. It was the one thing he wanted more than anything else in the whole _world_.

Don Vongola presuming upon Boss-honey and yanking him about would precipitate a major setback; Luss remembered how furious and in pain his Sky had been after being summoned to the Iron Fort on his sixteenth birthday, refusing to even _admit_ that he was hurting and drinking to numb the pain. Something like that would only delay their bonding further and really, was Don Vongola really _that_ blind to the effect he had on Boss-honey? Even after everything? Clearly Nono still hadn't learned his lesson; Luss would have to go and make matters _absolutely_ clear.

"I will accompany you," the Sun Officer decided, "to collect my Sky's birthday presents and speak to Don Vongola on his behalf." He raised an eyebrow at the pale and sweating messenger. "This way pigeon; I'll fetch us a car."

"I came up on a motorbike," the man mumbled, no longer making eye-contact.

"I'll have somebody transport it back to the Iron Fort for you," Luss dismissed, placing a hand on the messenger's shoulder and firmly steering him out of the crucifixion room and down the hall towards the garages. "Giving Don Vongola the Varia Boss's reply is _urgent_ , is it not? So we should take steps to deliver it swiftly as possible." Which meant driving one of the Varia vehicles with augmented steering, so that the car could keep up with his reflexes. "Promptitude is _always_ a virtue, don't you agree pigeon?"

The messenger looked a little green; Luss really couldn't think _why_ when he'd just been following _orders_ ; it wasn't _his_ fault Don Vongola's message had been so very _unfortunate_. The Sun was a professional; he wasn't going to shoot the messenger. Or even give the messenger so much as a twenty-four hour vomiting bug; not when the _dear_ man hadn't so much as _attempted_ to justify Nono's poor timing and overly-dictatorial manner.

Don Vongola however had most definitely _earned_ himself something both unpleasant and fairly long-lasting; oh, if only he could justify listeriosis or toxic epidermal necrosis... ah well, he'd have to settle for pericarditis or maybe herpangina. Possibly both? Yes, both; both was _good_.

* * *

Xanxus would have liked to spend the rest of the week at the farmstead with the shark, but he still had almost half of September's reports to dig through and more paperwork would be being added to his desk with every passing day, so they headed back up to the Varia late in the afternoon on the eleventh. A little unsteadily in Xanxus's case; they hadn't had marathon sex, but shark had edged him for who-knew-how-long _twice_ today and he felt fuzzy and off-balance, but not in a bad way.

All he really wanted to do was find some lube, work his way open and get fucked by his Rain, regardless of the possibility of a nosy Varia audience; shark wanted to do that as well –had wanted to do it earlier– but neither of them had been willing to leave the farmstead to pick up supplies, even though the Rain had had a chance to do so while Xanxus had been talking on the phone to Florrie yesterday.

Be best to stock a box of condoms and a decent supply of lube at the farmstead though, so they didn't get caught short next time; probably a good idea to sort out an entire Standard Varia first aid kit to keep in the wardrobe as well, in fact. Luss had designed all the Varia's variously sized first aid kits –pocket, standard, field, Medical and the various specialised kits with equipment you had to pass tests to be allowed to use– and all of them contained condoms, tampons and hygiene pads, because those were useful multipurpose items which took up very little space and could be traded or used to prop up an alibi in the field without depleting the more valuable or specialised items in the medical kit that you might _really_ need later.

Xanxus had seen pads used as dressings, condoms used as makeshift surgical gloves to dig out shrapnel and tampons repurposed as fuses for petrol bombs; if it worked, it worked and it meant that anybody deciding to have sex in the field could do so safely and responsibly. It also meant that menstruation-suffering Varia always had all necessary supplies in the case of their body ambushing them, which happened more than a person might have thought because maintaining Quality fitness often meant having relatively low body fat, which affected the menstrual cycle quite severely. Xanxus hadn't realised quite _how_ severely until he'd got to know Florrie, whose cycle was shockingly regular in comparison.

Walking in the front door at the Varia and switching his name from the 'Out' board to the 'In' board, Xanxus was immediately wished 'happy birthday' by those assassins hanging around the entrance and informed that there'd been a messenger from the old fart yesterday and Luss had left with him, then returned alone some time later. Mammon's retirement meant Luss was senior Officer –no sane messenger wanted to tangle with Bel– but what exactly had been said and where Luss had gone was not known, although there was no shortage of speculation.

The fuzzy off-balance feeling vanished the moment Xanxus heard that the old fart had tried something; he was going to have to hunt Luss down to get the details, because the old fart would make an issue of this the next time they met or spoke and Xanxus wanted to know what had actually happened. Soon preferably, in case the old fart decided to work his way through the switchboard or something; fucker was nothing if not persistent. He also had to tell the Sun Officer that the freckles were his fault due to the Denial interfering, so were technically bits of scar tissue.

"Your desk's going to be buried under presents as well as paperwork Boss," Squalo commented, pausing in the hallway outside his own office.

Xanxus shrugged; it had been like that last year too. There'd be cake for dinner as well –Housekeeping would have made enough for everybody– but he didn't mind that. He'd spent his actual birthday doing what he wanted, so letting his people do what _they_ wanted to feel connected to him was fine. Most of the gifts were edible, useful or funny and he got so many that burning the annoying ones barely made a dent. Everybody knew he did that; some of his assassins –certain Mists and a few Clouds in particular– made a point of picking things they _knew_ he'd incinerate, smug in the knowledge that burned or not, he now knew such a thing existed.

He generally passed the weird porn on to Luss though; the Sun liked that kind of thing and made a point of effusively thanking the people who'd bought it, generally in public. That was always fun to watch; nobody ever warned the newbies about it, so there was always somebody. Occasionally somebody dared by a more experienced assassin who knew _exactly_ what was going to happen and had set up a betting pool.

"Boss-honey, Squ-chan! Welcome back!"

Xanxus nodded at his Sun, who was looking suspiciously upbeat for somebody who probably wouldn't get to see the surface of their desk for another week at best. Medical paperwork and following up on it might stretch that out to ten days before he settled back into the usual workload. "Luss."

"So what happened exactly?" the shark asked curiously.

Luss smirked, the expression both sinister and toothy. "Oh, I got to have a heart-to-heart with Don Vongola yesterday," the Sun said with terrifying cheer. "He sent a message summoning his 'son' for a birthday dinner and really, _such_ short notice! As though you hadn't already made plans! So I declined on your behalf and then went along to pick up your present and remind the man that _polite_ people arrange that sort of thing at _least_ a fortnight in advance."

Xanxus examined his Sun's self-satisfied expression and unsettlingly smug Flame signature and came to a disturbingly plausible conclusion. "Nothing too lethal I hope?" Luss did his best work with viral and bacteriological infections, both 'natural' and heavily mutated.

Luss pouted. "I restrained myself for your sake, Boss-honey," he sighed; "mouth blisters for a week, then intermittent viral chest pains for a few months thereafter; painful but complications are vanishingly unlikely, although he may well _think_ he's having a heart attack."

Xanxus was confused but touched, both that Luss had gone and done that in the first place and that he'd clearly made an effort to keep his vengeance minimal and half of it sufficiently subtle that the old fart probably wouldn't realise who was to blame. He was also a bit irritated –he wasn't helpless– but he quashed that firmly; Luss didn't think he needed coddling, he'd been genuinely offended on his Sky's behalf and taken steps to resolve the matter in Xanxus's absence. That was part of what having Guardians was _about_ and it was nice that his Sun wanted to defend him, despite his not needing it in the slightest. Old fart might complain about the mouth blisters, but Xanxus could brush that off as 'post-September tempers running high' and 'protective Guardian tendencies' and agree to censure Luss for it. Which would basically involve telling Luss he was being censured and to look penitent in public for a week or so. Not that Luss was at all likely to go out and socialise with all the work that still needed to be caught up on.

"Keep him busy until after Christmas," shark said with an appreciative grin. "Nice one, Luss."

Luss was however watching Xanxus's face; the Varia Boss managed a slight smirk. "Won't try to call me this week then," he ventured.

The Sun beamed, his relief palpable. "Probably not, although his Guardians might try; I've already instructed the switchboard that you are not accepting social calls this week anyway, due to having so much paperwork to get through." He paused. "If that's alright with you, Boss-honey?"

Xanxus felt his smile become more genuine; a week free of even the _possibility_ of nagging would be very welcome. "Fine. Thanks."

"It was my pleasure; Information checked over the present I collected from the Iron Fort and I added it to the pile in your office and Housekeeping have promised to let me and the other Officers know when you're ready for cake, so that we can see you blow out the candles and sing."

Xanxus rolled his eyes but did not object; Luss liked it when the Officers did things together so every time there was a birthday there would be candles to blow out while the Sun chivvied everybody into singing 'happy birthday,' which generally sounded terrible because nobody ever did it in the same language as anybody else and the 'happy birthday' song was one of those that tended to have drastically different lyrics depending on culture, so it was just a mess. There wasn't always an entire cake for just the Officers because Housekeeping made lots of cakes for general consumption, but there was always at _least_ an extra cupcake or larger slice of regular cake with one or two candles in for whoever it was whose birthday it was.

"Oh and a few cards arrived from Florrie," Luss added; "I put those in the safe, so nobody else could get at them."

"Thanks Luss." Florrie had sent him cards? To the Varia? Well she knew he owned the farmstead now, so she could send things there instead. He should probably still mention it though, since she might not have made the connection.

The Sun smiled fondly, then bit his lower lip. "Can I hug you, Boss-honey? Since it's your birthday?" He requested hopefully, swaying on his toes.

The Varia Boss considered the request, then ducked down and embraced his Officer. "Fine with being asked," he murmured in his Sun's ear, "so long as it's in private." Xanxus wasn't always up for being hugged, but if Lussuria actually asked he could make a considered decision.

And just like that, he felt the Guardian bond with his Sun fall into place.

Luss squeezed him tightly and bounced away, almost sparkling with delight. "Thank you so much Boss-honey! Now I really _must_ go back to the paperwork; see you later, darlings!"

"I wonder what the message said, voi," the shark mused after Luss had danced off down the hall.

Xanxus shrugged, feeling slightly dazed and off-balance again from the fact that the bond with Luss that had been hanging unfinished for so _very_ long had actually taken. He had a good idea of what the wording of that message had been and would much rather not dwell on it; Luss had dealt with it so it wasn't his problem and didn't matter, until and unless the old fart called him to complain. Which wouldn't be happening for a week at least, and anyway Luss was actually his bonded Guardian now so had more leeway in family matters. "Later, shark." He had presents to open.

"As you say Boss," his Rain agreed with a fierce lopsided grin, a teasing undercurrent in his Flames adding a touch of innuendo to the statement.

The Varia Boss snorted quietly and let it lie as he turned away down the hall; there'd be time enough to explore that later, when he'd dealt with his presents and got some more paperwork done.

Shark would definitely be very willing to fuck him over his desk if asked, but if he hadn't got enough of the paperwork done then they'd have to settle for the bed. This time. It wasn't like his desk was going anywhere.

* * *

Florrie had mentioned that his birthday present was too bulky to post, which was rather intriguing and made Xanxus wonder what she'd got him exactly. Thankfully he wouldn't have to wait too long to find out; he'd already arranged two missions to Britain at the tail-end of October, so he could tag along on the flight both ways without incurring additional expense. Mammon of course knew he'd done it on purpose, but it _was_ an efficient use of both time and money so the Varia's treasurer had allowed it to pass without comment.

It did mean he'd have the shark's Squad –plus a pair of mooks– there for the first day seeing Florrie, but they would then be splitting off to complete their respective missions and not returning for another four days, so he'd have plenty of private time to catch up with his Cloud. She'd already told him she would be visiting her family on the afternoon of her actual birthday for a tea party with cake and presents, which he intended to work around rather than join in on; him joining in would shift the focus from spending time together as a family to curiosity about him and he'd rather help his Cloud avoid that.

He'd arranged rooms in a hotel not far from the university, so he'd be able to spend time with Florrie between her classes and in the evenings; he'd not planned anything specific beyond dinner in a nice restaurant the day before her birthday though, since he didn't know how energetic she'd be feeling. Recent phone calls had revealed that his friend was really enjoying her classes and had managed to get lucky with decent neighbours in her hall of residence, but there'd been an ongoing note of underlying strain Xanxus really didn't like. She'd dismissed it as 'Fresher's Flu' and later as 'still adjusting to the culture shock,' but Xanxus had a feeling it was more than that; seeing her face to face would enable him to pursue the issue properly.

Hopefully it would be something he _could_ help her with; if it turned out to be a family thing like a sick grandparent then there really wasn't anything he'd be able to do about it.

* * *

"Voi, are you _sure_ she said here?"

The Varia Boss reached out and shoved his Rain, who barely staggered and then had the gall to glare at him. "Said five past two, shark," the Sky drawled, "and it's one forty-eight." Fifteen minutes to wait yet, with the shark in a mood about having to split his Squad and his half taking the sabotage mission with the mooks rather than getting the assassination. Not that the Rain Officer would have trusted the mooks not to screw up on the assassination or have been prepared to leave them to any of his subordinates; he was just grumpy that he'd been put in a position where he had to pass on a rather interesting kill in favour of industrial espionage and hacking.

They'd all eaten on the plane, so Xanxus hadn't been able to shake off Blade Squad after booking into the hotel and had to put up with them following him to the university. The shark's Squad of swordsmen plus the two mooks assigned to Blade Squad's latest mission set were currently looking around curiously at the university buildings surrounding this particular little patch of grass and leading off around corners and down the steps to their left.

"Do we know what direction she's–" Heck began, cutting himself off at the sound of an electronic bell from at least three different directions. Barely ten seconds later the windowed corridors of the buildings around them were awash with a flood of students, more students appearing from both the right and left to hurry up and down the five-metre-wide paved steps, the air abruptly full of the sounds of hundreds of people walking and talking.

Rebatida sidled up behind Xanxus and discreetly clapped his hands over his ears; the Varia Boss let his Flames drift out slightly, muffling the noise a little. Rebatida was one of his Lightnings and since taking over their Division he'd discovered that quite a lot of Lightnings had difficulties with sensory processing, which played a part in their well-known tendencies towards both tunnel vision and reacting first in a new situation.

"Thanks Boss," the Electric swordsman mumbled, head tipping to brush Xanxus's upper back. Levi had been tall –if not quite as tall as Xanxus now was– but most of the other Lightnings were about average height and frequently a bit skinny, like their metabolisms ran faster and they weren't getting quite enough to eat. Which was not what was happening.

Difficulties with sensory processing included a range of food issues, like abhorring certain textures and combinations of textures, being able to taste bitter undertones in far more dishes than most people and avoiding them accordingly, and always being able to tell if the plate they were eating off hadn't been properly rinsed of soap. Xanxus had thought _he_ was a picky eater; he had nothing on Lightning Division, whose members had an irritating tendency towards just _not eating_ when they were having a bad day. Having to _order_ his men to keep a few packs of something they _always_ liked eating in pockets and go-bags was not something he should have to do! They were all terrible at looking after themselves! Yes, Luss might fuss that Lightning Division were now getting through a lot of cheap chocolate and snack cakes and how it wasn't healthy, but at least they were _eating_.

The tegu he'd arranged for Lightning Squad to have as a therapy pet as much as a Box Weapon was helping, as it was smart and perfectly comfortable with human contact, but Xanxus suspected he was going to have to bite the bullet and get a few dogs. Box Weapon dogs, so they didn't fall foul of the Varia's cats, but they would still be dogs with all that implied.

Maybe greyhounds? There were always greyhounds looking for a good home somewhere in the Alliance, what with how popular dog racing was, and a dog that was already marginally Flame-sensitive would make an excellent Box Weapon and therapy animal. He could make them for Medical rather than Lightning Division specifically, as they'd be good company for assassins stuck in beds while they healed without carrying the risk of transmitting infections as well as mental health animals.

The rush of people was finally starting to ebb and Xanxus could sense Florrie approaching, but there were so many other Latents moving around that he couldn't quite pin down where she was. The general direction she was arriving from yes –up the steps– but no more than that. Half turning that way, the Varia Boss started scanning faces.

It was her bag he spotted first, not her face; she had her head down as she hurried up the stairs, watching her feet so as not to trip and fall headlong in the crush of people. He recognised the bag because it was the shoulder bag he'd bought her last time he was here, large enough for her workbooks as well as all of the usual handbag things.

She looked up the instant she reached the top of the steps, met his eyes and grinned, waving; Xanxus raised a hand and watched as she darted between other pedestrians until she arrived in front of him, then pulled her into a hug and leaned down to exchange kisses.

"How've you been?" she asked, looking cheerful and slightly bruised around the eyes as she leaned back a little into his arms; definitely not sleeping enough.

"Busy," Xanxus replied easily, not letting go. He'd missed cuddling her and refused to deprive himself. To her credit, Florrie realised this is under three seconds and leaned forwards again, forehead resting just beneath his shoulder.

"Are you taller again?" she demanded.

Xanxus smirked. "Maybe." Luss had asked that exact question with the same faintly outraged tone when the Varia Boss had tried on his new uniform a fortnight back and found it a bit short in the leg and a little tight through the shoulders; the Sun Officer had insisted on a full measuring session and determined he was now a little over one hundred and ninety centimetres tall in bare feet. "Six foot five now." That was five centimetres taller than this time last year; not at all bad when he'd been sure he'd already finished growing since Active Flames usually kick-started puberty early and ran through it at twice the usual speed.

Florrie raised a fist and thumped him painlessly on the shoulder. "Stop. Growing. You're already stupidly tall; you're going to brain yourself on a door lintel."

"Voi, he does that already," shark muttered not-so-quietly.

It had been in September and Xanxus was pretty sure some smart-ass Mist had lowered that door lintel a few centimetres on purpose; he'd never hit it before or since. He didn't respond though; that was just asking to get dragged into the shark's stand-up comedy routine.

"Eaten lunch yet?" he asked Florrie.

"Not yet; I had classes from ten until now," his Cloud told him, "and actually I'm ravenous."

"Let's go eat then." He put his hands on her shoulders and spun her around, stepped forwards and wrapped an arm around her waist. "My treat; pick a restaurant."

"Well if you insist." Florrie smiled up at him and set off; Xanxus moderated his pace according to hers, leaving Blade Squad and their tag-alongs behind as they headed down a different set of steps and off campus towards the centre of town.

Once she'd eaten and shown him where she was living he could start investigating what it was that was bothering her.

* * *

Watching Florrie walk into her hall of residence was… Xanxus didn't like it. Didn't like the way her face shuttered and her spine stiffened, or how she dropped her gaze, caught his hand and hurried up the stairs and along a corridor, making no eye-contact with anybody and only greeting people in passing if they called out to her –which two people did, if not by name– until she reached the door she had a key for, which she opened swiftly.

She didn't like it here. It might not be bad per se, but she didn't like it. Looking around inside the room Xanxus could understand why; it wasn't a small room but it wasn't exactly large either. It also definitely wasn't soundproof; he could hear at least three different people moving around in the rooms overhead and on the left-hand side and the actual words of the television program somebody in the adjacent room on the right was watching and that somebody on the floor below was talking on their phone to their mother.

It didn't feel private. It felt like a rabbit hutch, one of those multi-storey ones used in pet shops with all the different rabbits in neighbouring wire mesh boxes.

Florrie had dumped her bag on her desk, kicked off her boots and was fishing in a drawer. "Here," she said, turning back to him with a soft, bulky package in her arms, "happy birthday."

Xanxus accepted the gift and sat in the room's only chair to open the gift; his Cloud settled on the edge of the bed, watching him.

It was the patchwork quilt she'd been working on since spring; hexagons in bright rainbow colours contrasting against white and black geometric designs and more subtle, faded shades all in a riotous pattern that wasn't remotely regular. Xanxus got up and shook it out over the end of the bed and half the floor and paused, the design abruptly coming together.

"Bester?" It _was_ Bester, a touch abstract due to being made out of hexagons but definitely his liger, prowling through a background with a distinctly jungle feel despite the vibrant colours, the whole piece more than large enough to cover a double bed. It was stunning. And was that Florrie's Gwyn lurking in a tree in the top right corner?

"Oh good, he is recognisable then."

Xanxus turned and lifted Florrie off her feet in a hug, spinning around with her and dotting kisses over her face. "It's beautiful and I love it." All these hundreds of hours of work, all for him? He didn't deserve her. There was nothing he could give her to match this, money could not buy this kind of care and while he had made her ring, it hadn't taken him anywhere near as long as _this_ had taken her. He'd have to get Luss to Flame-proof it for him, otherwise it might get damaged. "Love you," he added past the sudden lump in his throat, face pressed against her neck and breathing her in as he flopped onto the bed without letting her go.

"Missed you too," his friend told him softly, hands carding through his hair and fingers tracing idle lines across his scalp.

* * *

"You don't like it here," Xanxus said eventually, once he'd kicked off his boots and they were both curled up on her bed under his new and wonderful Bester blanket.

"It's loud and there's nowhere to get away from the noise," Florrie agreed softly. "Start baking and you summon the entire corridor wanting to take advantage, stealing things like they don't need to ask and never saying thank you, even when I put my name on _everything_ in the fridge it still vanishes and I don't _care_ that my neighbours are friendly, they're all loud and extrovert and it's too much most days." Her breath hitched. "I love my course but I'm having to do all my work in the library because I can barely think here."

Xanxus pulled her into his arms for another hug, rubbing her back soothingly and cradling her head. This was, as it happened, a problem that throwing money at _could_ fix: his Cloud needed her own house. Well, she needed a proper flat with nice thick walls and Flame-warding to keep the noise out but to arrange that Xanxus would need to buy a house and have it refurbished. The rest of the building could then be a Varia safehouse; it would be well away from London here and reasonably central to the rest of the country, geographically speaking, have an airport nearby and be in a university city, so nobody would look twice at a bunch of people in their late teens and early twenties walking around in matching leather outfits with weird accessories.

There were a couple of streets with a lot of large, semi-derelict Victorian houses out the back of the campus that he remembered from the tour she'd given him last time, alongside an old church, the houses that had been converted into the university's counselling offices and the school of Chinese. His Cloud could have her own little Territory that was also his Territory, have her space and quiet and he could visit anytime without having to bother with a hotel.

"Let me fix this for you?" he requested.

"Xanxus, how?" his friend asked him tiredly.

"Let me buy you a flat."

"Xanxus–"

"No," he interrupted firmly, "listen. You're my Guardian; you do so much for me. All the emotional support I'd get from a wife if I was married" –which had been humbling to realise– "and a wife would get equal access to my money, or at least a generous allowance. You support me; let me support you. We're in this for life and I can't leave at the end of the week knowing you don't like where you live. Please." He wasn't going to force her but he also really could not _stand_ to see her so unhappy. It made him want to kill people.

She sighed against his ear. "Somewhere near the university," she murmured, "on a quiet street. Ground level if you can? I miss gardening."

Xanxus kissed her neck, fiercely grateful for her acquiescence and acutely aware that for her to bend this easily she had to be completely drained and almost too tired to care anymore. "You'll be out of here by Christmas," he promised rashly, tilting her head back so he could make eye-contact. "I swear. Once it's sorted out I'll help you decorate and find furniture and move in; shark and Luss can help too."

"I'm sure they'll be delighted to have been volunteered," Florrie agreed dryly. "Or is that voluntold?"

"Don't worry about it," the Varia Boss dismissed, kissing his Cloud on the nose for good measure and already planning the inevitable upcoming phone call to Mammon to expedite the purchase and get the refurbishment started as swiftly as possible. "Luss will love getting to help you pick colours and shark can do the heavy lifting."

"If you say so, Xanxus."

"I do say so." He paused, taking in the nuances of her Flames. "Better?"

"Little bit," his friend agreed quietly. "Would you guard the kitchen while I bake and drive off any interlopers with intimidation and realistic threats?"

Xanxus grinned. "I'd love to." Maybe he could determine who'd been stealing her food and ensure they knew he knew they'd done it and that he _would_ murder them if they ever did it again.

"I'll make fruit bread, I think," she decided, sitting up and climbing over him to put on a pair of slippers. "I still have a little bit of the candied peel I made left and I keep the nicer dry ingredients in here, where nobody can touch them."

Xanxus folded up his birthday blanket and slipped into his boots, then wandered over to help his friend carry her ingredients into the kitchen. The fruit bread would take time to rise, so they'd be there for several hours and could hopefully cook some other things in the interval; lunch might have been not much more than an hour ago but he could always find space for his Cloud's cooking.

* * *

"What's this about a house, Boss?" Mammon had phoned him up two days ago to complain about Boss buying a semi-derelict property near Florrie's university and Squalo wanted to know what was going on there. This was the first chance he'd had to ask, since he'd been babysitting a pair of mooks.

"My Cloud needs a Territory," Boss said simply, the hotel suite's table covered in paperwork and blueprints and costing notes. "Not enough space to breathe."

Well that certainly painted a picture of Florrie's current accommodation; Squalo couldn't say he was surprised though, as student housing tended to be pretty basic. Most students didn't care, enjoying that they were away from their parents for the first time and free to do whatever, but Florrie had a year of independent living under her belt already and that meant higher standards. Plus Cloud; none of them were keen on enclosed spaces they weren't able to leave.

"Does she know you're doing this?" Because if she didn't then there was likely to be trouble; a stressed Cloud would be even touchier about being 'pushed around,' even for the sake of improved living conditions.

"Asked _first_ ," the Sky informed him in tones of entirely fabricated offense. "Said yes, set terms and baked me fruit loaf."

Oh well in that case. "Is this going to be her birthday present then?"

Boss shook his head. "Christmas present," he specified; "promised it would be ready by then." Meaning everything was going to get expedited within an inch of its life, because that was less than two months away; Housekeeping had probably already started buying materials and a Mist would be dispatched to the local planning office to backdate things and 'convince' people that everything had already gone through the system. Still…

"A whole house?" That was a lot of work for a lone student; the farmstead was barely the size of a three-room apartment. Doing it all within two months would also mean paying a crew of renovators, if he remembered correctly; sometimes the only half-decent thing on hotel television was those annoying home improvement shows and Squalo had picked up an involuntary education as a result.

"Quarter of a house," Boss specified, turning back to his figures. "Ground-floor flat plus the garden; rest will be a safehouse."

Well that would be handy for future missions, given the reasonably central location and decent transport links; save money in accommodation in the long run too. "Varia-owned then?"

"No, mine; Varia gets to lease it." The Sky smirked sideways at him. "Might sell up in three years when Florrie graduates, might not."

Well that would explain why Mammon had gone with it; it was Boss's money and could be counted as a fairly safe short-term property investment, as once the building was refurbished it would be fairly easy to later convert into student accommodation, which could then either be rented out through an intermediary or sold outright for several times what the original property and refurbishment had cost. Mammon would probably recommend rental; that way there was income without any loss of capital. The main expense would be in getting everything finished at such short notice, but since Boss didn't care and it was his money, the miser would go along with it. While complaining loudly, but that was just Mammon being themselves.

Squalo wondered idly how many future Vongola events Boss was planning on missing by visiting his Cloud. Probably quite a number of them.

* * *

The old fart hadn't tried to arrange another meeting yet, which Xanxus was grateful for. Horse however had, so the Varia Boss had made time for him on the Monday after All Souls and headed down to the Cavallone with the shark a little after lunch. He wouldn't have taken shark at all, except horse's letter had mentioned he wanted to talk about 'how the Vongola Decimo and his Guardians were progressing' and Xanxus would rather leave as much of talking about the brats to others as possible. Shark had spent more time with sword-brat and Mist-girl, so his take on things would be useful. Mostly as taxi and somebody to make sure nobody tried anything and vouch for who they were, but that was still far more time than Xanxus ever intended to bother with; damage control could only go so far and Chew Toy as Don Vongola would inflict a lot more damage than could feasibly be covered up or smoothed over for very long.

Xanxus was also reminding himself that he wasn't the old fart and didn't have to do everything himself; Guardians were for delegating to. He'd already asked the shark, so after this meeting he would delegate the whole brat-pack problem to his Rain, who now he was no longer on immunosuppressants had the time and energy for an increased workload. Shark had more or less finished retraining himself back into shape after all the lazing around and slowly going crazy that was extended Medical leave and the summer season, so his schedule was even open for it.

The Cavallone mansion was unusually busy; however the people hurrying around were not the usual suited men but instead a mix of suited men, smartly-dressed women and a handful of children.

Horse's right-hand man found them after about three minutes waiting. "I do apologise, gentlemen," he said, looking like he'd not slept much recently. "I'll escort you to Don Cavallone at once."

Xanxus did not ask what was going on; judging by the tension and the children present, somebody in the Family was dying and everybody was trying to visit at once. That wasn't something to pry into.

Horse also looked a bit worn, but much less so than his Right Hand; probably somebody Romario knew better than his Don did, then.

"Xanxus, Squalo, good to see you both," horse greeted them, walking over from the windows to clasp hands and hug briefly. "Come and sit down; how have you been?"

Xanxus made himself at home in a chair by the floor-length windows overlooking the gardens. "Not bad," he admitted comfortably. Florrie might be out of immediate reach but shark was right here and he had finally managed to bond with Luss, so things were as good as they'd ever been; better even, despite the challenges involved in arranging a new house for his Cloud. "You?"

Dino waved the other men standing around out of the room –his Right Hand included– then when the door was closed joined them at the table. "Tsuna can't stay as Vongola Decimo," horse stated without preamble. "You have a plan, I know you do; you set me up so I couldn't miss the issue."

Well, that was nice and direct. "Plan's mostly to make sure what happened in the fake future doesn't happen for real," Xanxus admitted. He'd not thought further than that; he didn't have the energy to care what would happen beyond that point. His logic might not be falling on as many deaf ears now, but Dino's were just one pair and there were many more who were wilfully ignoring the situation.

"No alternative heirs in mind then?"

The Varia Boss shrugged. "Been out of the loop for a decade," he admitted, "and we don't really hear the Flame gossip at the Varia. Never looked into who else was eligible and can't access the Vongola records anymore." He wasn't going to visit the Iron Fort to poke about; he would much rather entirely avoid even the _possibility_ of encountering the old fart. It wasn't his problem; he'd done what he could there. One of his 'brothers' having a bastard around his age was possible and it wasn't like there was a lack of Vongola blood in the Alliance; just a lack of trained heir-candidates.

"So you're just going to let the cards fall where they may." Horse had no moral high-ground to stand on for that disapproving tone; it wasn't like he'd have noticed at all without help. Shark clearly felt it was a bit much too and bristled.

"Voi, Boss's been playing Cassandra for two years now; if nobody else in the wider Family cares enough to step up and have a go at challenging Chew Toy then they don't _deserve_ to be Decimo!"

Horse blinked. "Chew toy, Squalo? Seriously?"

"If it fits," Xanxus drawled trenchantly.

Dino covered his face with a hand. "I hate you Varia and your thrice-damned nicknames; I'm going to end up _saying_ that to somebody now."

Squalo sniggered unrepentantly.

"So your plan is to make sure that if the Vongola Decimo fails, he won't drag the Alliance down with him," horse clarified, looking up again. "Hence your cultivation of his more aware Guardians; they'll be able to run damage control from the inside."

"Smart horse," Xanxus agreed. "Vongola's dead unless somebody manages to dig up a bastard grandchild or three of the old fart's; Sawada's not Vongola in any way that matters, so why should he lead the Alliance? Vongola blood in all the other Dons." He raised an eyebrow at the Cavallone Decimo. "Even you've got Vongola blood, horse." Horse's grandmother had been Sesto's granddaughter and Ottava's cousin.

"Which is why my father and I both had to disown ourselves from the Vongola inheritance process when we assumed the mantle of Don Cavallone," horse said tiredly, "and believe me, you do _not_ want my uncle Dario running the Vongola; he's… well. There _definitely_ wouldn't be any heirs to lead the next generation, shall we say, and he'd probably mortally offend everybody inside the first month."

So horse's uncle was into men then and completely shameless about it. Explained why horse's uncle wasn't already leading the Cavallone too; if the 'inside the first month' remark was true to character then it also explained why said uncle hadn't stepped in as an interim measure rather than dumping it all in Dino at fifteen. Or maybe he _had_ helped out, but kept it all behind the scenes out of the public eye? That was much more plausible actually.

"No cousins?" shark asked lightly. Horse glared at him.

"My cousins are even younger than Tsuna, Squalo! And–" he sagged abruptly "–and they're probably going to lose their father within the next few months, so no. I'm not saddling then with that kind of trouble, not when I haven't even checked to see if they're Skies yet."

Of course, horse's cousins would be his heirs right now, wouldn't they? Not their father, another of horse's uncles –who had also been excluded from leading the Cavallone for some reason, possibly relating to frail health– but that man's children. Xanxus opened his mouth to move the conversation along but at that exact moment the door banged open, revealing a tall and rather athletic middle-aged man with spiky black hair going grey at the temples.

"Nephew, Maurizio is a–Andrea?" That last was addressed at Xanxus; the stranger stared at him, face white as he reached out to lean on a nearby chair. "My God…"

"Uncle Dario, are you alright?" Horse got up quickly and went to offer the man an arm; Xanxus stayed where he was, suddenly very interested and very wary as to whom 'Andrea' might have been. It wasn't smart to prevent people from giving out free information and Dario both had some features in common with horse's Right Hand and reminded Xanxus slightly of horse's dead older brothers, so horse was likely to actually be related to him and not using 'uncle' as simply an affectionate title. Although horse _had_ just mentioned an 'uncle Dario,' so this was probably that same man.

The man dropped heavily into horse's seat, still staring at the Varia Boss's face. "You _have_ to be Andrea's," he said flatly; "you could be him come again. Except for that chin; that's a Superbi chin. Faces like ships' cats, the lot of them; was your mother blonde? Andrea liked blondes."

"Uncle Dario, are you saying Xanxus is my _brother_?" horse demanded shrilly, eyes wide. Just needed stamping hooves and you'd have a panicky horse. Then the meaning hit home and Xanxus felt his own eyes widen.

Well shit. 'Andrea' was Cavallone Nono? That could explain a hell of a lot. Like why Ma had insisted his father was 'Don Nono;' she'd just got the wrong Sky. Xanxus had never met Cavallone Nono, but had seen both of horse's older brothers a few times in passing at events; all the variously shaded blonde hair of the Cavallone heirs had to have come from somewhere and Xanxus had assumed they took after their father there. Clearly not.

"With that face, definitely," Dario Cavallone said firmly. "Andrea only married because our father told him he had to; if he'd not been Heir he'd have gone through a string of mistresses and never settled. Blonde mistresses," he amended, "and probably some pretty blonde boys as well; it was always blondes with Andrea. Every shade of blonde and pretty pointy faces," his eyes strayed to the shark, "which seems to have run true."

Xanxus was _not_ going to think about that right now; bad enough that horse was looking like his whole world was crashing down around his ears at the revelation that his father had been something of a tomcat. Or maybe a stallion in rut was a better simile. Had horse assumed his father had been faithful? At least when Xanxus had believed the old fart was his father he'd known the man's wife was long dead, and even then he had not been so innocent as to assume that marriage vows worked like chastity belts.

"But we look nothing alike!" Horse protested weakly, clearly shocked and hurt by the revelation that his father had been anything but faithful to his mother.

"Same mouth and same hands," Dario Cavallone said instantly, "and the height is from our side of the family; the Cavallone have always been taller than average. You were always Isabella come again Dino; it was Vincenzo who looked most like Andrea. The red eyes though; not seen those since great-uncle Giuseppe died. Giuseppe Molinaro," he clarified, "Grandma's –my grandma's– brother. Never knew what Flames he had; the Molinaro generally don't bother with all that. Couple of other Molinaro with red eyes, I think. That chin's definitely not from our side of things though; like I said, Superbi. Pointy cat faces, pretty hair and long eyelashes, the lot of them." He paused; Xanxus could feel the shark seething at that off-hand summation of his entire Family. "Xanxus Vongola you say? Probably a few generations out from being proper Superbi then, or Timoteo would never have got a chance to steal you. They'd have kept you close since they don't give a shit what side of the sheets their kids are born on, what with lust being their second-favourite sin. Your mother probably didn't know her heritage or you'd have one of their zoological names."

The idea of being Cavallone and distantly Superbi was not an unpleasant one. Xanxus still felt vaguely dazed by the rapid-fire revelations though; this was _not_ what he'd been expecting to happen today.

"Voi, let's wrap this up here and come back to it later when we have more details and things have settled," shark said briskly, getting to his feet. "Let us know when you want us to stop by again, Bronco."

Horse nodded, still visibly struggling with the revelation. "Yes, erm, thanks Squalo," he managed vaguely. "We can arrange a blood test, maybe?"

"I'll have Mammon do one," Xanxus agreed, also getting up; Mists had ways of digging heritage out of blood samples and it would be more discreet than a lab, not that Xanxus wanted to let a blood sample out of his sight at _all_ when all kinds of unpleasant Curses could be inflicted that way. "Send you the results." Regardless of what they were; it was the least he could do at this point.

"Do come back," Dario added, getting up to shake hands; "it's not every day I get a new nephew."

* * *

They left the mansion, shark driving them back up to the Varia in pensive silence. Not that Xanxus was really in the mood for conversation either.

"You just got made by a total stranger," shark said eventually, tone subtly amused, "because liking pointy-faced blondes is apparently hereditary."

Xanxus had been trying not to think about that but clearly he wasn't going to be allowed to. It didn't help that Bel was another pointy-faced blond that Xanxus had picked up and the Varia Boss was now wondering how heritability worked exactly, because it wasn't like he'd ever _met_ the ninth Don Cavallone to take after him in things like personal taste. Wouldn't that fall under 'nurture' or something?

"And now I'm wondering how Nono Vongola managed to miss that you are apparently the spitting image of Nono Cavallone," shark continued blandly. "That seems like something the man should have noticed, all things considered."

"Might have seen it as doing his Ally a favour," Xanxus pointed out; it was something the old fart _would_ do, feeling all benevolent and not bothering to mention it or write it down anywhere since he 'knew' he was doing the 'right' thing. "Keep a bastard Sky from competing with his legitimate sons? Old fart never really considered me competition for _his_ sons, since he knew I wasn't his."

"Irony there is you're still Vongola enough to count," shark pointed out dryly. "Still four generations removed from Sesto Vongola and a Sky, after all."

That… that hadn't quite hit home yet. No, the old fart _wasn't_ his father but he was no less Vongola for that and it turned out he was Cavallone and Molinaro and a bit Superbi as well. Which might offer even more ties elsewhere if he could pin them down.

"Want me to talk to my uncle?" shark offered quietly. "Maybe see if we can track things down from that end."

"After the blood test," Xanxus decided firmly. "Want to see what names we have to work with first."

"As you say, Boss."

"Shark?"

"Yes, Boss?"

"You just got called my pretty-boy bit on the side by horse's uncle."

"VOOI! Don't remind me," the Rain grumbled. "Only reason I didn't skewer him is he might be your uncle as well. I bet you _are_ related; you're an asshole like that too."

Xanxus snickered. He'd never considered calling the Superbi family resemblance shark shared with most of his closer relatives as them having 'faces like ships' cats' but now he'd heard it he had to admit it was pretty apt. Had the cat attitude as well, and the Don and Heir Superbi even had feline names to match.

Well, this was certainly going to make things interesting at future meetings, and not just with the horse…

* * *

Xanxus had Mammon do the blood test the moment he got back to the Varia; the result was that he was most definitely the late Andrea Cavallone's son and that his mother's mother had a Superbi middle name –Oncilla– implying _her_ mother had been a full Superbi. Possibly even a main family Superbi, considering the feline theme.

His mother's actual name had been Maddalena Viera Barraco; she'd been seventeen when he was born. Her parents were Pietro Barraco and Sara Oncilla Mancuso, both still among the living; the Mancuso were a minor vassal Family of the Superbi who owned a fairly large rope-making business, among other things. The names and dates further up the tree than that were a bit jumbled, but the shark had peered at them and eventually stated that his maternal great-grandmother had _probably_ been Volpe Superbi, a sister of Don Leone Superbi's grandfather and Squalo's grandfather's aunt, making Xanxus his Rain Guardian's third cousin.

Xanxus had quietly authorised the creation of three copies –one for the Varia's own records, one for horse and one for the Superbi– and requested his Rain see to it they were all appropriately situated. Then he shut himself in his forge to build something while thinking things over.

His father had been fourteen years older than his mother and married with two children when he was conceived, once the maths and the historical record had been accounted for. Which, well, he'd already suspected something like that, but looking at the dates made it painfully clear his mother very definitely hadn't been a whore when his father met her; prostitution was illegal for under-eighteens. That would have come after, when his mother realised she was pregnant and either got kicked out or ran away from home. Either way, he doubted she'd gone straight into prostitution after leaving.

His mother, who had clearly known her baby's father was a mafia Don and had probably been terrified of having him stolen or murdered, or of being murdered herself. It was entirely possible Nono Cavallone had threatened her at the end of the relationship, to make sure she wouldn't try and blackmail him later.

The test said his name was 'Xanxus' Xanto Cosimo Barraco; his mother seemed to have mashed together the first syllables of his first and middle name to create a pet name for him, then used that to the exclusion of all else.

Shark had said he could request to use the Superbi name if he wanted, since that was what those of his relatives who got involved with the Underworld generally did, so as to divorce their civilian identities from criminal matters and protect their immediate relatives.

Mammon had agreed to have Information dig up what could be found under his and his mother's names in various hospital and church records, since he'd been living civilian for the first six years of his life and there had to be paperwork _somewhere_ of things like vaccinations and health checkups. Vongola Medical had long since handed over copies over of what he'd had done while in their care, but they'd need to update the civilian records if he ever wanted to use his original identity for anything.

He should probably get another copy of his Baccalaureate made with his actual name on.

He should find out more about the late Andrea Cavallone and what he'd died of, considering he'd only been forty-eight when he kicked the bucket and it had probably been a prolonged death, seeing as it hadn't been a secret he'd been ill even before Xanxus had been put on ice. It might be related to why one of horse's uncles was currently dying, despite being only in his forties or fifties. Two people in the same family could indicate a genetic predisposition and he did _not_ want to be dying in less than thirty years' time.

He should call Florrie.

He really, really _should_ call Florrie, or at least text her so she could call him back if she was in class right now; he'd seen her timetable but couldn't bring it to mind right now.

He had blood family and at least some of them _wanted_ him.

Sitting on the floor of his forge, well away from the newly completed Zero-Point machine, Xanxus put his head in his hands and cried.

* * *

Boss had been in the forge for hours, then gone straight up to his rooms afterwards without ordering dinner. He _still_ hadn't ordered dinner in fact, which… was not great. Squalo however wasn't sure what to do about it, because his existing coping strategies hadn't caught up with his Sky's improved mental health and the associated new relationship dynamics. Yes, he probably _could_ walk right into his Sky's bedroom without getting shot on principle now, but doing so would carry with it a responsibility to make things better rather than worse.

It was always easy to make things worse, especially by accident.

Squalo groaned, grabbed his phone and left his office for his own bedroom, closing the door behind him. Florrie might not be able to help with this, but talking to her would not make things worse. Not like ignorantly trying to help and doing the wrong thing at the wrong time would make things worse.

"Hello?" was the cautious reply when she picked up.

"Voi, it's Squalo." The phone she had was on the Varia network, so it would supply people's Varia Names rather than their numbers or actual names when they called; she'd have 'Captain' showing rather than his name, unlike Lussuria who had made his Varia Name his legal one as well. Information and Equipment ran the network between them, the former maintaining the database and ensuring it was up to date and the latter replacing or updating the technology as needed.

"Oh, hi there Squalo; how are you?"

Florrie was a Cloud, so that was a genuine question not a pleasantry. "Not bad, but a bit worried about Boss right now."

"The identity thing?" How did she know? "Xanxus called and I ended up spending an hour and a half listening to him." Oh that explained a lot. Made him feel better too; their Sky was actually talking about things, which meant he was processing. Emotions weren't always rational and Boss getting them off his chest of his own initiative meant Squalo wouldn't have to slog through them.

"Mostly I'm worried that he's not eaten since lunch."

"Oh dear." A pause. "Squalo, you do cook, right?"

Where was this going? "I am capable of it, yes," he agreed dryly. It wasn't that hard to follow simple directions or apply some of the knowledge picked up from various cooking shows he'd had to watch or listen to on missions; they were fairly popular among certain squads, providing uncontroversial entertainment at minimal effort.

"The best way to get Xanxus to eat when he's like this is to cook something simple and filling –cook it yourself, not pre-prepared food or anything ordered in– and then go to where he is and say that you cooked, would he like some. Then if he doesn't outright say no, serve plates for both of you and start eating. He should join in once he realises he's hungry; make sure there's enough for seconds, he eats like you wouldn't believe. Or maybe you would; is eating more a Flame thing?"

"It can be," Squalo agreed, fixing this strategy in mind for future occasions. "Really anything?" Boss was ridiculously picky with food most of the time. Boss did most of the cooking at the farmstead too, so the Rain had an excuse for not having noticed; he'd been happy to let his Sky cook and be appreciative of the food, for all it meant Squalo generally got left with the washing up afterwards.

"Avoid his favourites entirely," the Cloud said firmly. "He's _really_ particular about those, so don't even go there. Just do risotto or hell, boil up some ravioli; he says he's got a hot plate in his rooms now, so you could even do it there. So long as it's you doing the actual preparation he's willing to eat most things that aren't outright unpleasant. He may comment on ways it could be better and expect you to do that next time or have a good reason why not, but he'll still _eat_ it."

Well that certainly put his Sky's pickiness with food more into perspective; if preparing food was somebody's _job_ then he expected perfection, but if it was someone doing it of their own initiative then it was a gift and required appropriate appreciation, provided it was indeed edible. It also implied that if somebody wasn't confident they _could_ do Boss's steak perfectly, they'd be better off cooking something else entirely that they were sure _would_ turn out perfect. It wasn't like he always requested steak after all; half the time he just demanded dinner and they sent him steak.

"How're you holding up?" the Rain asked.

There was a sigh over the line. "It's a bit easier now I can tell myself it's not for much longer," she admitted candidly, "and nobody's stealing my food anymore, which I suspect is Xanxus's doing somehow. The main challenge is that now _everybody_ on my corridor is convinced I have a hot Italian boyfriend who may possibly be a serial killer."

Squalo burst out laughing; yeah, he could see how Boss could have created that impression. That was the funniest thing he'd heard all week. The idea of Boss interacting with civvies and frightening them away from Florrie's cookery with the kind of inventive threats that were bandied about at the Varia as part of normal conversation was just, yeah.

"On the plus side, the really annoying people are avoiding me now," Florrie continued, tone light but wry. "On the minus side, the nicer girls are trying to check he's not hurting me and don't really believe me when I say he's actually one of my best friends, not my boyfriend."

"Tell them he's the one with a boyfriend, voi." It was not entirely a lie, even though he and Boss were just having casual sex within the boundaries of their existing Sky-Guardian relationship. The truth was that neither he nor Boss were currently interested in investing in a long-term partnership outside what they already had. Sure, Squalo was vaguely planning on marrying at some point –probably after he retired from the Varia– and hopefully having a few kids, but he'd not met a woman who made him want to make the effort yet. Boss was firmly disinterested in the very _idea_ of marriage –at the moment at least– so he wasn't going to date at all. Maybe he'd have a fling later if he found someone who met his standards there, but for the time being it probably wasn't going to happen. It might not ever happen; as Florrie had already pointed out, Boss's upbringing had really made a mess of his perception of sex and relationships. Squalo doubted Boss would ever have a traditional marriage even if he _did_ marry someone; it would take somebody _really_ special to get him to even consider the idea.

"I'll ask him next time he calls," Florrie agreed bemusedly. "Is that actually true?"

"We're fucking but that's all."

"So rather than having a boyfriend I could just say he's 'already seeing somebody.'"

That was technically much more accurate, yes. "Make sure they know it's a guy; they'll probably lay off then." Bisexual and polyamorous erasure was alive and well, but it did come in handy sometimes. Some people seemed incapable of understanding that it was possible to like more than one gender or more than one person at a time, but people were frequently trash like that.

"I'll give it a go; best of luck with dinner, Squalo."

"Thanks; bye." He hung up, pocketed the phone and left his bedroom to poke about in the kitchenette on the other side of his office. He wasn't a massive fan of ravioli –unless it was seafood ravioli– but risotto was always nice and so were a few other pasta dishes. He could probably whip up a decent _pasta con le sarde_ if he made an effort; he had all the ingredients for it, as well as disposable gloves to wear while cutting up the fish.

Boss had better appreciate this.

* * *

The Flame inversion machine worked; Xanxus knew it did, he'd tested all in the individual components before putting them together, tested the combinations as he assembled it and briefly switched it on once it was completed just to make sure. It worked.

However just knowing it worked and having it locked in his safe was proving a challenge. More new memories had surfaced in the past fortnight than the entire previous six months, most of them concerning the old fart and various manipulative shit the man had pulled over the years. As a result the Varia Boss had sworn off missions entirely for the time being, instead focusing on keeping himself up to date on the progress of the housing project, spending time with Lightning Division so they felt comfortable talking about what they were having difficulties with and he could fix it, occasionally checking in on Information and what they were managing to dig up of his mother's background and calling Florrie.

He'd called Florrie every afternoon eight days running, just to talk about the memories and externalise how they made him feel so he could stop feeling it; called in the mornings a few times too, because she'd dictated her exact schedule to him the third day so he now knew when she wasn't in class. He didn't always talk; sometimes he just listened, or asked her questions about how she felt or whether she'd experienced similar things, because some days he didn't _want_ to talk but hearing his Cloud meander back and forth through her own struggles was still cathartic and affirming.

Shark had fucked him insensible twice so far and edged him to that point several times more; Xanxus had explained about the Zero-Point machine and its intended purpose when his Rain made him dinner that first evening after he completed it, and Squalo had immediately offered to render him incapable of coherent thought anytime he wanted. It did help a lot; he was certainly sleeping better than he'd ever managed before in his life. Reciprocating was enjoyably distracting as well; turnabout being fair play and all.

The trip to Namimori at the winter solstice had been planned for months, but Xanxus just wanted to spend that time with Florrie, curling up around her on a bed or sofa and not having to be Varia Boss. If everything went well her flat would be ready in early December, leaving plenty of time for her to decide how she wanted it decorated, have it done and things being ready for her to move in the week before Christmas, but with how everything was timed Xanxus wouldn't be available then. Because it was Bel's birthday and having already set things up so he and half his Officers would be in Japan.

Hopefully his brain would stop digging up skeletons from his mental closet soon –or at least take a break for a bit– because he was exhausted. All the reminders that growing up around the old fart had been even shittier than he'd previously been willing or able to recognise were wearing him down, and not even time on the farmstead punching bread dough and sexing up the shark were doing much to the underlying malaise. He needed a break so he could feel like himself again, instead of persistently directionless and at loose ends.

Horse was yet to get back to him about them actually being related; the Superbi had been in touch within two days and he'd had lunch last weekend with Servalo, the former Don, and been told all kinds of hilarious stories about his great-grandma Volpe, who had been Servalo's aunt. It turned out she'd been really into boxing and he'd been given copies of a few photos of her dressed for the ring; there was something about her face that reminded him of his Ma, even though Volpe had been a redhead. And red-eyed to boot, according to Servalo; seemed he'd got that from both sides of the family.

At least the old fart was far too busy with his own health scare to get on his case about the lack of 'family feeling'; Luss had been _very_ smug when reporting that Don Vongola was currently under observation following a suspected heart attack.


	3. Chapter 3

**Pick up the pieces (and move on)**

"You," Squalo said very deliberately as he let himself into the relatively comfortable study reserved for visiting clients and closed the door behind him, "are _late_."

Bronco winced, but didn't try to deny it. Smart man. "I… needed some time to come to terms with my father's extra-marital escapades," Don Cavallone admitted quietly, shooting a brief glare at his Right Hand. "And that certain persons did not see fit to inform me of them sooner, despite their considerable relevance to certain difficulties that affect the Family to this day."

In other words, the Right Hand Bronco had inherited from his father had been keeping secrets. Well that was the Cavallone's problem, not Squalo's. "So what are you here for, voi?" In the past fortnight Boss's mood hadn't managed to rise above gloomy for more than half an hour at a time unless he was busy having sex, which while less stressful than when the Sky was violently homicidal still wasn't pleasant. Especially since Boss being a Sky meant that the mood resonated somehow and lingered everywhere he'd been in an almost tangible fog. Wasn't quite as bad as Wanhope had been back before the Mist had retired, but a lot of Varia were still rather more subdued than usual, which meant fewer in-house shenanigans. Squalo would almost have preferred the shenanigans. Almost.

"Officially, to commission a spot of industrial espionage," Bronco said, producing a file and handing it over. "Unofficially, to give my recently-identified sibling a bit of family history and context for my tardiness, along with an open invitation to visit; my aunt Eleonora is particularly relieved that her pre-teen children are no longer in the direct line of inheritance."

Squalo felt his jaw drop. "Voooi, you made Boss your _Heir_?!"

Bronco looked mulish. "He's my _brother_ , Squalo! Besides, I inherited the Family at fifteen; without Reborn leaning over my shoulder and the Vongola supporting me in those early years the Cavallone would no longer _exist_. My niece is thirteen, my nephew is eleven, their father will be dead within the next four months and that's _it_ for the current generation of the Cavallone main line, Squalo; if I'm dead I'd much rather have Xanxus in charge of things. He would do everything in his power to keep the Family flourishing."

Well yes, Boss would. Unsaid also was that Don Vongola was nowhere near as influential as he used to be and that if somebody _did_ manage to off Don Cavallone, Chew Toy would not have the capacity to do the right things to support the bereft Allied Family either. Chew Toy didn't have whatever hold over Reborn that Don Vongola did, so commissioning Reborn to 'tutor' whoever ended up leading was unlikely to bear fruit. Especially since the Vongola couldn't exactly back up the threat these days.

There was, ironically enough, no Rule that said a Don could not be Varia Boss; Alliance, Allied or otherwise. It was simply unlikely; the skill required made it implausible and the associated workload would be far too much.

"Are you making this public, voi?"

"Provided Xanxus agrees to it, yes." Dino flashed a smile. "I suspect I will enjoy a corresponding decrease in risk of assassination attempts."

Yeah, that seemed very likely; people knowing that killing Don Cavallone would put the Varia Boss in charge of one of the Underworld's largest Families would make murdering said Don a really Stupid idea. Didn't mean that idiots wouldn't still try, but the smarter ones would at least recognise what was at stake and back off; Dino was far more merciful than Boss was.

"How're you planning on dealing with Nono Vongola?" Because openly accepting Boss as a Cavallone would make it very clear he was not, in fact, Timoteo Vongola's son.

Bronco's face turned steely. "I am sure it was simply an unfortunate misunderstanding," he said, tone deceptively mild, "after all, Nono Vongola openly claiming as his a child he knew was not has rather unfortunate implications. Especially when that child so clearly resembled a similarly-aged Heir of an Allied Family that Nono Vongola had recently been introduced to."

Those were some lovely implications there, suggesting that Don Vongola had been hoping to annexe the Cavallone through Boss. Scary thing was, that might even be the truth: if Boss hadn't discovered he wasn't actually Don Vongola's son the year before Nono Cavallone died and ended up in the ice, Dino could have met with an 'accident' and Don Vongola could then have revealed to Boss that he was actually the last eligible Cavallone, since neither of Dino's uncles were in the running for whatever reason and Bronco's cousins would have been toddlers. Which yes, Boss _would_ have been pissed about, but the revelation would have included that he _did_ have Vongola blood and was still able to inherit the Alliance. But he couldn't do both, because the Cavallone weren't part of the Alliance. So Boss would have taken over the Cavallone, formally annexed it to the Alliance and then made a play for being Don Vongola, because that was what he actually _wanted_ and not being raised Cavallone meant he'd just have seen them as means to an end, despite also considering them a duty he refused to neglect; regardless of how _that_ went, the Alliance would nonetheless have gained all the Cavallone assets, terrain and personnel for the low, low price of a single death.

Well, possibly slightly more than just _one_ death; both Dino's older brothers had died within a few months of each-other in the year before the Cradle Affair. Squalo now had to wonder what part Don Vongola had played in Francesco Cavallone's botched abduction and Vincenzo Cavallone's riding accident. And Nono Vongola's personal hitman had been tutoring Dino thereafter… it all looked like a grand generous gesture unless you saw the angle of Reborn being more of an executioner if Dino hadn't been willing to toe whatever line of crap Don Vongola wanted in return for his support; keeping the Cavallone Heir hostage, safe from external harm and training –indoctrinating– him, all for the price of a single hitman.

Except that Boss had found out he wasn't Timoteo Vongola's son well before Cavallone Nono had died and upset the applecart by launching an attack on the Iron Fort to stick it to the man who'd lied about being his father.

It was times like this that Squalo was forcibly reminded that Timoteo Vongola had kept the Vongola at the top of the Underworld hierarchy for over fifty years and could not have done so without being a ruthless manipulative scheming weasel, regardless of the benevolent grandfatherly image he liked to peddle. This was the subtlety that had been so lacking in the past few years; the only reason people had believed in that farce of a Ring Battle was because nobody was willing to poke the Varia to get answers for their suspicions. Which might have been the point; along with humiliating and entrapping Boss, which had _definitely_ been a factor.

"I'll submit this to Information," was all Squalo said, letting the mission file slap against his palm, "and let Boss know that you'd like discuss a family matter." That would make it clear that Bronco was welcoming Boss into his family.

"Thank you, Squalo."

The Rain eyeballed the clumsy blond he'd attended school alongside. "You get one chance," the Varia Officer said lightly, smiling thinly as the weeks-older man got the message and swallowed hard. Good.

Bronco only got a warning because Squalo knew he was a fundamentally decent person who loved his people more than the idea of increasing the wealth and prestige attached to his Family's name.

* * *

"Boss, Bronco's here to discuss a family matter with you; shall I have someone bring him up?"

It was clear from shark's word choice, Flames and general attitude that horse wasn't here to disown Xanxus from the Cavallone and demand he sign a Mist-contract to that effect; the Varia Boss glanced around his office. Not much paperwork but only the one sofa, which Optima –his new Sky Jaguar– was currently snoozing on. "He in the guest study?"

"Yes Boss."

"Will go to him then; no point disturbing Optima."

"Shall I have somebody bring drinks, Boss?"

"No; can order them if we need them." Best to find out what horse had in mind exactly first; it might be a water conversation or an aperitif conversation, but it could just as easily turn into a whiskey conversation and Xanxus would rather order accordingly than have to change gears and be left with a drink he didn't want to finish.

* * *

As promised horse was standing around in the nicer study, which was too small to comfortably fit an entire entourage like the old fart always insisted on bringing so the Vongola Don had never seen it; it had a round table, two old but comfortable leather armchairs, another two regular wooden chairs and was frescoed with scenes from the life of Dionysius, so there was a lot on drunken revelry and naked cavorting painted across the walls and ceiling. "Xanxus! Good to see you looking well," horse said warmly, shaking hands and leaning in for a hug. Xanxus allowed it briefly, then stepped back to glare.

"Took your time, horse?" A two week wait implied a lot of not-so-nice things about Don Cavallone's decision-making process, even if it had ended up weighing in Xanxus's favour.

Horse sagged visibly. "I… sorry, Xanxus. I had no idea my father was anything but happily married to my mother until Dario spoke up and I've been trying to come to terms with it ever since. While also having to dig into how my father's promiscuity affected the various family businesses and make appropriate adjustments, because there _were_ effects and some of them were lingering despite all the other restructuring I'd done previously. But that's no excuse to put talking to you off for this long."

Well, if horse could admit his mistake and own it then Xanxus could let it slide. This time. "What kind of effects?" he asked, leading the way over to the chairs and sitting down.

Don Cavallone followed suit, his Right Hand standing back by the wall to afford nominal privacy and make it clear he wasn't participating in the conversation. "Let me start at the beginning?" horse requested. Xanxus waved an inviting hand and the blonde began:

"Well I didn't really believe it at first, but then Romario admitted to having a list of people he knew for certain my father had affairs with and that he suspected my father had also kept a record of his conquests, so I went digging through his personal effects. Which took a while to find at all, because I'd had all the personal stuff put into storage after he died; he didn't have much of a head for numbers but he _did_ at least keep personal and professional matters firmly separate." Horse sighed heavily. "It turned out that a lot of what I'd thought was love-letters to and from my mother and amateur landscape photography was actually a photographic record of past conquests, alphabetised. Nude photographs of no particular artistic merit, but useful for blackmailing former lovers into silence with."

Okay this was _definitely_ a whiskey conversation, but now was not the time to offer alcohol so Xanxus just raised an eyebrow.

"That took a little while to get past," horse continued, the feel of his Flames suggesting that was a fairly sizeable understatement, "and I had Romario compare his chronological list to the names on the backs of the photographs and it turned out that over half the pictures were unaccounted for. Your mother included, among other people." There was a faint cringe in horse's Flames there, implying that Dino had recognised some of those people and hadn't wanted to see them naked. "So we had to go through and try to determine who my father had met when based on apparent age, to see if there might be any more unaccounted-for half-siblings to possibly follow up on. I've had to arrange a meeting with Don Superbi I am very much not looking forward to, as I suspect he's known about this for a _lot_ longer than I have."

Yes, any Superbi actually using their family name who got pregnant by a neighbouring Don would have taken the matter to Leone, who would have set up an income for the mother and a trust for the child, then taken steps to ensure the father _never_ found out. The Family might be led by men, but the Superbi were as much matrilineal as not and did not particularly care how or where a child was conceived, so long as the relationship had been consensual and one parent was a Superbi. The Cavallone might well have a number of potential bastard heirs among the Superbi as a result of their ninth Don's sexual escapades.

Horse pulled out a thin file and pushed it across the table. "Here, you should probably have these; I included the negatives."

Xanxus flicked the file open and paused; yes, that was definitely his mother's face. However she looked to be about sixteen here and was not only naked on a fairly upmarket hotel room double bed but masturbating for the camera. The other prints were more of the same, large and glossy in black-and-white –definitely developed in a personal darkroom rather than done professionally– and explicitly intimate. Even more explicitly intimate than the first photograph, in fact. The kind of thing that would ruin a woman's reputation forever if they ended up in a magazine or newspaper and could definitely get a girl killed if her father took it badly.

Fuck, no wonder she'd ran when she found out she was pregnant.

"Was the two week delay due to you taking your time to enjoy the photos, horse?" he asked cattily, flicking the file closed again and making eye-contact with his guest.

Horse flushed scarlet. "Xanxus! No! There were quite a few management people and higher-ranking secretaries in there, a number of whom probably got promoted by my father to make them more accessible for him to press advances on. So nobody would question why he was meeting with them and so on, even if that person wasn't really qualified for the post. I had to look into timings and business dealings and checking the books to see if cash-flow was affected and then rearrange people without outright demoting them, to put them in positions that better catered to their strengths. Which I had already done quite a lot of, but this did turn up several more underlying problems I'd missed the first few times around."

Well wasn't that even more cripplingly awkward.

Don Cavallone rubbed his face and continued, tone slipping from defensive into unhappy. "And of course they all _knew_ why I was doing it and they were all terrified I was going to fire them or at _least_ demote them for being receptive to my father's advances, never mind that he'd been both their boss and their Don and they'd probably been at least slightly coerced to begin with due to that. Some of those men were _married_ –and most of them are _still_ in the closet about being attracted to other men– and my father _knew_ they were married but he seduced them regardless of that. It's been a _mess_ Xanxus. Hell, it's _still_ a mess; I'm now paying for medical leave and therapy for four of them who'd had it completely repressed until now and really aren't coping with having it all dug up and brought into the open, including a woman who had an abortion."

So Andrea Cavallone really had been a predatory piece of shit; his slow, lingering death couldn't have happened to a more deserving person. "That's pretty personal, horse," Xanxus pointed out, "even if I am your half brother." Those kinds of details on the inner workings of the Cavallone and its members were for the Don only.

"Not if you're my Heir, Xanxus." Horse clearly read his surprise right off his face and barrelled on, "not necessarily permanently but just for now Xanxus, please? My male cousin is only eleven, his sister's less than two years older and if anything happened to me, you being in charge would keep the Family stable and fewer people would die. Well, fewer Cavallone; I'm not too bothered about outsiders who'd try to take advantage of my demise. You've got the training and the connections and the reputation, nobody would be on your case to marry with Demetrio in the wings as a perfectly acceptable successor and nobody would mind if you decided to step down in his favour the moment he was old enough, or even if you didn't; you're a good boss, it's clear in how you treat your people and how much they love you. Please, little brother?"

Okay all that was true but _no_. " _Not_ your little brother horse; was born two years before you," Xanxus said flatly, sitting up and leaning forwards over the table. "Should be twenty-six and only reason I'm not is Don Vongola's meddling. I'm your _older_ brother and while I'm fine with being your Heir, make it clear that my being after you in the succession is due to the illegitimacy and wanting to spare your Family the uncertainty of being led by a child." He paused. "Got that, _little_ brother?"

Dino grinned. "Of course, Xanxus." Bit too smug there; the Varia Boss set about thoroughly popping his bubble.

"Rather not announce it just yet either; write your will and have the signatories swear Mist-oaths so they forget what was in it, then lock it in a safe and don't talk about it. This kind of thing could be taken out of context by the External Advisor and Don Vongola, especially with the recent health scare, and I do _not_ want to get frozen solid again over some bullshit excuse like 'threatening the Vongola's stability.' Lost eight years last time, had to invent a whole new Flame technique to get rid of the scarring afterwards and _still_ got a range of health problems connected to the Zero-Point." Mainly psychological, but they all counted.

Luss had done his best for Xanxus's eye and it _was_ better, but it wasn't as good as it had been before the ice and while the Sun was hopeful that a second round of treatment would improve things, it was being left as it was for the time being. Lussuria wanted to wait until his freckles started fading, as that would indicate that the last remnants of the Denial he had used to hide the scars had dissipated, and he was insisting Xanxus not use Mist on the eye in the meantime. Which meant headaches and reading glasses for paperwork, but his ability to see at a distance had fully recovered and his peripheral vision was decent so Xanxus was going with it.

"And don't look at me like that, pony; you _know_ he'd do it. I've spent the past year unpacking and coming to terms with the crap he piled on me as a kid and I know _exactly_ what he's capable of and how he thinks; I spent _ten years_ trying to please him thinking he was my father and my head is seriously fucked over from it."

"Pony, Xanxus?" horse asked plaintively, not contradicting the rest of his statement.

"You're way shorter than me; more _cavallino_ than _cavallone_." Xanxus smirked meanly. "Or possibly _cavalluccio_ ; cute pony."

Horse rubbed his face with both hands. " _Dio_ , you are _worse_ than Uncle Dario," he mumbled. "You have a point about the potential repercussions though, especially since I'm not sure he _didn't_ know you were my father's when he took you in to begin with; you do look just like Vincenzo does in the photos I have of him, other than the colouring and chin."

Yes, that _was_ a very nasty implication that Xanxus was going to have to dig into thoroughly later, probably with the shark rather than with Florrie since it was very much an Alliance politics thing. Maybe with Bel too, since it related to succession and governance and the Royal Storm had a talent for the subtleties there.

"And I'm glad you're getting –oh so she wasn't your lover, she was your counsellor!"

That was _not_ an angle the Varia Boss wanted Don Cavallone to pursue at _all_ , especially when Florrie most certainly was _not_ a psychiatry specialist. The knowledge she had of the field had been picked up to confront her own issues, and most of what she'd done for him had been listen, be his friend and support him as he worked on developing the coping skills and boundaries most normal people had. "She's a Varia contact; one of Mammon's tax people, manages a safehouse now," he said coolly, making it seem like she'd only been in Italy in the first place as a favour to him and had then gone back to her own life. "Not Underworld at all and doesn't want to be."

"Yes, sorry, that wasn't at all relevant to the subject at hand and I shouldn't pry," horse agreed quickly. "And while I agree it might be best to put off making your position official for a while, would you still be interested in hearing about some of the Family traditions?"

Yes, he would like that. "Talk over drinks?" he offered. The conversation had strayed away from the whiskey-worthy details now, but aperitifs as they talked about Cavallone matters would be pleasant.

"Thank you Xanxus that would be wonderful; possibly a little something to eat too, since it's coming up on lunch time?"

He and horse were on the same page then; Xanxus got up and rang the bell for Housekeeping, then when he sensed the feel of the room change slightly he made his order of an Americano each and a plate of nibbles; the cocktails could be drunk slowly as they talked and the food would whet their appetites for later, since Don Cavallone would probably not be staying at the Varia for long enough to eat a full meal. Most people didn't, for all that poisoning customers was just poor form and terribly bad for business.

As conversations went, this hadn't been as bad as it might have been. However next time they met at the Cavallone Estate he was going to ask what exactly had killed their father and what their uncle was dying of; rumour said cancer both times, but that was easy enough to screen for before it became impossible to treat and didn't explain why they had another sibling who had died before the age of ten. That was just suspicious, for all that the cause of death had been 'illness' and there had been fewer vaccines available back in the sixties.

The Cavallone had to have more skeletons in their closets than the potential bastard children fathered by a promiscuous Don.

* * *

"Boss is _not_ invited to the Prince's birthday party."

Xanxus raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

Bel nodded decisively, nose in the air. "Boss would ruin the atmosphere; parties are supposed to be _festive_ , not miserable! Go visit your Advisor and don't come back until you're not ruining things for everybody else."

The Varia Boss eyed his outrageously impudent Storm Officer; at least the brat had waited until they were alone in his office to have this discussion. "You don't give the orders here," he reminded the teenager quietly.

"Not here, no," Bel agreed readily, "but I get to do what _I_ want on _my_ birthday and I want to go eat sushi _without_ you, because you are being _boring_." He huffed, folding his arms. "Besides, you promised your Cloud that you'd move her into her new home before Christmas and you _hate_ breaking promises; the Prince is therefore graciously excusing you from attending his birthday festivities."

Typical Belphegor; offensive and considerate in the same breath. "Boring, am I?" Xanxus mused idly. "I believe we should spar. Right now." So he could thoroughly thrash his insubordinate genius Storm Guardian for sticking his nose into things that weren't his business.

Bel had the gall the grin at him. "Of course, Boss!" he chirped, producing a handful of knives. "Here?"

"Outside," Xanxus decided; he wasn't in the mood to redo the paperwork. He then made good on the decision by lunging for his Officer and launching him out through the closed window, leaping after him through the charred frame and letting Wrath pool around his fingers as he landed. It'd been a while since he'd done this; it would be fun.

He'd have to ask Florrie how she felt about him visiting to help her settle in. After he'd put Bel in Medical for the rest of the week for his cheek, of course.

* * *

"So it's just going to be you helping me move in," Florrie deduced; "that's fine. I'd actually rather deal with fewer people if I can; moving is stressful enough as it is and it's not like I've got much stuff."

"I'll be coming over on the fourteenth to show you the flat and talk paint and furniture," Xanxus said, secretly rather pleased that he'd get to have his Cloud entirely to himself. Well, almost entirely to himself; her family would want to get involved too, since they lived nearby and knew she was moving. "Got a team lined up to do the painting on the seventeenth, so you can move in right after."

"I'll probably start with second-hand furniture," Florrie decided, "then replace it as and when I find nicer stuff. I mean, I'm unlikely to find things I really like in a hurry, aren't I? So better to just find _something_ as a starting point, then as I find stuff I like more I can upgrade piecemeal."

Xanxus hummed supportively; he'd never shopped for furniture before, so wouldn't have been able to offer a qualified opinion. All his furniture had been provided by Varia Housekeeping and it was comfortable and functional and looked decent, so he had no objections to any of it. Varia Housekeeping had even supplied him with replacements for what had been taken from the farmstead before he bought it, so he had no experience at all of how to go about buying things.

"There are a few places around and about for sourcing furniture second-hand, so we can visit them and see what's available," Florrie continued. "If it comes to it I can always see if any relatives would mind parting with something or other."

"One exception," Xanxus requested: "no, two; get a bed frame and a sofa I can lie on without my feet hanging off the end." The bed in her current accommodation was just slightly too short to be comfortable and not many sofas were made for sprawling on when you were well over a hundred and eighty centimetres tall. He could fit if he curled up on one side, but there was something about being able to sprawl that was inherently restful and it avoided the intimate connotations conjured by spooning.

His Cloud chuckled, the sound slightly distorted by the phone. "I think I can manage that," she agreed fondly, "although I think for the bed we'd be better off starting with a nice mattress and then picking out a frame to fit. Sofas might be trickier though; a lot of longer sofas don't have proper back rests and I want something I can sit on without getting a crick in my neck afterwards. Might have to settle for some nice high-backed chairs and a smaller sofa."

Well if it came to it he could always put in a custom order somewhere on the sofa; her idea for the bed was sound though. "See how it goes," he conceded. "Any ideas for colour schemes yet?"

"Xanxus! I haven't even _seen_ the flat yet," his friend chided lightly. "But yes, I do have a few vague ideas. You said the house faces north?"

"North and south; front faces north though, as does the main room." Florrie's flat was all of one side of the symmetrical and generously-proportioned building he'd bought, front through to back; the plans provided by the renovators showed they had divided up the space into a living room with a kitchenette at the north end, a little private landing and bathroom in the middle and a bedroom not much smaller than the living room at the south end. The other side of the ground floor had been divided into a living room, a kitchen, a laundry room and a good-sized wet room, intended for the use of any Varia in residence. The lower ground floor –not quite a basement since it had windows but still partially below ground level– had been converted into a small training room at the front and a television room at the back on the Varia side, and Florrie's side had a workshop with a forge under her living room; he'd been assured that the Warding in that particular area was both effective and very secure. The back quarter of the space under her bathroom and bedroom had been left empty for now, but Xanxus had plans for a server there; expanding the Varia's internet presence was always a good investment, as hosting websites meant steady income. Those took a lot of time and work to set up though, so would have to wait until Mammon and Information were ready.

The first floor was all bedrooms with en-suite bathrooms off a central hall and the second floor was still being converted into a communication room and armoury. There was also a driveway to the left of the house leading up to a freestanding garage and a front lawn between the drive and the front path, continuing past it all the way to the fence, as well as another outbuilding behind the garage that ran the length of the house into the back garden, with an old-fashioned manual pump over a tank that the gutters fed into at the far end. Never mind all the south-facing garden space behind the house, which Xanxus was sure Florrie would have lots of fun with; it was just a rather sad-looking lawn at the moment, but he was sure that would change.

The open right-hand side of the house was screened by a high fence, so the neighbours couldn't see into the lower floor windows, and there were a few trees around the edges of the garden as well to discourage snooping. The garden also sloped downhill and past the fence at the end there was a patch of woodland on a much steeper slope, which would discourage snoopers and trespassers as well as providing a discreet entrance point for assassins.

"Well, if the main room is north-facing I probably want it painted in very pale yellow to give it some warmth," Florrie mused, "or else another warm shade of off-white with some kind of coloured trim or feature to lift it a little. South-facing rooms really need to be white though, and bathrooms can be done in any colour since you don't spend much time in them."

"Get some tester pots and experiment," Xanxus promised comfortably. "See what you like." Florrie would also have to pick what colour she wanted her bathroom walls tiled in, but the floors were all matte black-and-white ceramic tile or polished parquet already, so fitted carpets were a non-issue. She could always buy rugs if she wanted soft surfaces underfoot.

"What colours are you doing the rest of the building in?"

"White." It was going to be a safe house and white was both cheap and inoffensive.

"Would it be okay for me to do a bit of freehand detailing here and there?" his Cloud asked tentatively. "I've always wanted to paint actually on walls. Just little things, like some birds or plants, maybe?"

"Whatever you want," Xanxus said, shrugging; not that she could see him over the phone. "Just you living there full-time and I own the building, so have fun." It wasn't like he couldn't paint over it all in several coats of white before selling it a few years down the line. Although if the Varia bought the place then any paintings could stay; they might even like the extra decoration.

"Thanks Xanxus! That'll be something fun to do between classes," Florrie said cheerfully. It was good to hear her sounding so upbeat; Xanxus hadn't got the impression she'd been in the mood to do any painting at all since starting at university, so this was a clear sign of how much better the prospect of having her own place was making her feel.

"See you Friday," he told her; "I'm renting a van." That way they wouldn't have to bother with hiring extra help to move either her belongings or the yet-to-be-purchased furniture.

"I'll let my parents know that I'll be busy at the weekend, then. See you soon!"

"Love you. Bye."

"You too; bye!"

Xanxus hung up, pocketed his phone and stretched, sprawling out on his couch. That had been a very nice conversation, although he still hadn't talked to her about her Christmas plans and how he might fit into them. Oh well, something for while they were experimenting with paint samples.

* * *

Paint colours all had such ridiculous and pretentious names; why would you call a shade something like 'naughty step' or 'millionaire' or 'bath bomb' when it didn't tell you anything about what it actually _was_? Well, this brand did at least; the other paint brand featured in this particular DIY store had slightly more practical names like 'pale lime' and 'bone china blue' but still a few overly pretentious flubs like 'attic.' How was attic a colour?

Not that Xanxus was airing his opinions aloud; that would be inconsiderate when Florrie was completely focused on what the colours actually _were_ and trying to visualise colour schemes for the three rooms of her new home. He'd showed her around the entire building yesterday afternoon, with particular focus on her little flat –which already had the bathroom and kitchen fittings installed– and the garden, because he was leaving that entirely to her. She'd talked a bit about colours then, but hadn't made any decisions. Now she was lingering over the colour selections on offer it was fairly clear that she finally _had_ made some preliminary decisions, but hadn't quite finalised them yet.

"Get all the pots you're undecided between," he told her; "We can paint the walls and see how it looks." Sample pots weren't that expensive after all, and it would only take a minor Mist-trick to get the entire wall to temporarily match the test area if she was really _that_ undecided.

Florrie did not reply, but she did start filling up his basket with little pots and that was just as good. Xanxus took note of the shades; three blues, two creams, three greens and three oranges. The flat was currently entirely done in standard bright white, so that was technically another colour to add to the mix.

"I want to do the wall with the windows in the bedroom in blue," his friend said as they headed for the checkout, "the bathroom in a soft green to take the edge off the white fittings and the black and white floor tiles, and the main room in cream with the chimneybreast in orange, as that will add a splash of colour without being overwhelming and will look nice with the wood veneer doors on the kitchen cupboards and the parquet. The ceilings will all stay white, of course."

"Sounds good," Xanxus agreed easily; she wasn't planning on putting too much of a strong colour in any one place and nothing that would clash or look strange with what was already installed. He'd thought it might be blue for the bathroom, but on second thought the greens she'd picked would look better. Could even get a green bathmat and matching towels as well if she fancied it.

"I'm probably going to want you to bring me back later so I can buy some pots to do decorative detailing with," she admitted; "some of those colours were just lovely and I have so many ideas!"

"No trouble," Xanxus promised; he was just a bit interested in what she had in mind there himself, so hearing more about her planned art project would be an agreeable way to pass an afternoon. Or a morning, since her course had finished for the year and wouldn't be starting up again until the second week of January.

"I also need more cheap picture frames," Florrie went on, her voice dropping to a mutter as the cashier scanned their purchases and loaded them into a plastic bag. "Now I have walls I can put nails in I want to hang my photos where I can see them."

Xanxus silently added a trip to Ikea to his mental list; that was the only place he knew of that sold small clip frames and that sounded like what his friend was after. Not that he'd ever _been_ to Ikea, but the catalogues were everywhere and decorating a theoretical room or house with Ikea furnishings was a fairly common thought exercise for Varia assassins stuck in hotel rooms or travelling in trains or cars, as it allowed for a degree of disagreement between participants without being competitive or risking much in terms of serious offense.

Was there an Ikea near here? He'd have to check. If not, clip frames might be ubiquitous enough to find in a supermarket and Florrie would know where to find one of those. She'd lived here long enough to have shopped in some.

* * *

"What are you doing for Christmas?" Xanxus asked, painting a generous swathe of very bright blue up the side of the bedroom's left-hand window, the gloss-painted frame protected by a layer of masking tape.

Florrie glanced at him from where she had just started painting a rather more delicate blue between the two windows. "Nothing in particular; a family Christmas at home with my parents, plus Citra from my course since she's Filipino –Filipina?– and can't go home for Christmas so I invited her over. The rest of my family is going down south to see other relatives for New Year, but I've already cried off that on the basis that university has been _exhausting_ and I can't face being crammed into the back of a car with my siblings for six hours."

"Can I stay?" Asking was hard, but if he didn't ask, she couldn't say yes.

"For Christmas with my family? Sure; I'll let them know this evening so they can buy you presents," his Cloud said easily.

"I meant here, until after New Year; rather spend it with you and enjoy the quiet."

"I don't mind at all; it would be nice to have company," Florrie agreed softly after a thoughtful pause. "You can help me put up bookshelves and unpack; I want to move stuff out of my room at home as well as out of halls, since I've got all this space to put it in now."

"I'll earn my keep," Xanxus promised teasingly, leaning down to kiss her on the cheek. "Can we fit in Christmas shopping along with looking for furniture?" If her family were going to get him presents he should reciprocate. Not that they'd get anything as nice as what he was giving Florrie, but it was the principle of the thing and Xanxus wanted to make a solidly good impression on his Guardian's parents. They were the ones who'd somehow managed to raise a cuddly Cloud after all, and despite the many mistakes they'd made, they'd owned them all, apologised to their daughter for them and encouraged her to find the tools to heal and recover with. Xanxus could respect that kind of honesty.

"Of course we can; I'll even tell you what kind of things they like," his friend said cheerfully, bouncing on her toes to press a kiss to his chin. "After we've finished in here can we check in the bathroom? I think the greens will have dried by now and I want your opinion."

"Sure." He personally thought both shades of aquamarine looked equally good, but his friend would probably decide that the darker one was a bit too dark to keep. The third green was subtly brighter than the lighter aquamarine, so which one she picked depended entirely on her. They were both equally tasteful and worked well with the black-and-white colour scheme the room had so far, if in slightly different ways.

Scooping the last bit of the so-called 'peek-a-boo' blue from the pot with his brush, Xanxus made sure the area he'd painted was evenly covered with fairly clear edges. Then he rinsed the brush in the jar of water to get most of the paint off, dried it on a rag and picked up the pot labelled 'Tivoli,' walking around his friend to the far side of the right-hand window. Once this was done they'd be moving into the living room and he'd get to see what those oranges looked like; they promised to be very vibrant indeed and he was looking forward to it. He'd have to wash the brush properly with soap before switching to orange though; just rinsing was fine between blues, but he didn't want to have blue streaks in the orange.

He was also secretly amused that his Cloud did not seem particularly enamoured of the colour purple. Well not enamoured enough to consider putting it on her walls, at least.

* * *

"Yes, sorting out the bed _was_ the most important thing before moving in, but curtains are definitely the second-most important thing Xanxus!"

"Curtains?" Xanxus recognised that living in Sicily meant he wasn't used to curtains –people mainly had shutters or blinds– but he didn't really see why they mattered.

Florrie made a face at him. "Yes, Xanxus, _curtains_. So I can have the lights on without everybody outside the house being able to see me, and to keep the heat in. Yes, the windows _are_ double-glazed, but every little helps. Plus curtains make it less clear whether or not there are people in the house, so they deter thieves."

Well the building was thoroughly Warded against that kind of thing, but looking out of place was not something a safe house should do and something it would be a good idea to remedy. At least for the front of the house; the back didn't matter so much, looking out as it did over a strip of woodland. "Where do we get curtains?"

His friend grinned. "Well first we have to measure _all_ the windows," she said cheerfully, "and then we can either look around various second-hand shops and hope for the best, visit a department store or upholsterers and pick a fabric to have them made up to spec, or buy the material and make them ourselves. Or a combination thereof. Have to check what kind of fittings are already in place too; no point getting curtains with rings if there are rails and a dust guard above the windows."

This was _far_ more complicated that Xanxus had thought it would be. "This house has _ten_ front windows." And that was counting each of the big bay windows as a single unit; never mind the various side windows and further ten or more windows at the back!

"Mm-hm," Florrie agreed mischievously. "But they are _standard_ sized windows, so finding second-hand curtains shouldn't be too hard. The bathroom windows have frosted glass so they only really need blinds and there's no point in putting anything over the landing windows, as they're stained glass. Besides, my aunts have agreed to pay for nice curtains as my Christmas present, so I just have to go the department store route there and then send them the receipts."

Okay, so not _quite_ as terrifyingly large a job as it had initially appeared to be and she'd definitely been teasing him. He nudged his friend. "Messing with me."

She held up a finger and thumb with about a centimetre between them. "Little bit, yes; I also want to get net curtains for my living room –just the lower panes so people on the street can't see in– and blackout linings for the bedroom curtains, so I don't get woken up by the sun at stupid o'clock every morning in the summer."

"Curtains for the basement too?"

"I should think you'd want plain blinds there, as while it's lined against the damp it's not really living space and blinds are easier to clean. Also easier to replace and less likely to catch fire, which is probably a hazard. Have you put in fire extinguishers? If not we should buy those too, and fire blankets for the kitchens."

"Those we have." Fire extinguishers and associated items were a must in every Varia safehouse due to most domestic furnishings being flammable and Varia assassins being walking talking fire hazards by definition. Yes, the building itself was always extensively Warded against fire during the renovation process, but it cost too much to have all the replaceable soft furnishings treated against Flames so they generally didn't bother. Which meant fire extinguishers in every room and strict Rules about only training in designated spaces. They still managed to lose a few pieces of furniture a year, if generally not to fire; wooden chairs got broken, desks and tables lost legs from being shoved around, some got genuinely misplaced –Mists were terrible about moving things 'out of the way' and forgetting to put them back– and some did not survive the crime of being goddamn ugly. Bel was notorious for arranging the latter, although he at least paid for a more tasteful replacement to be acquired.

"Oh good. So we go and measure the windows, then visit the places that do curtains on the list my Mum gave me and see what they've got fabric-wise, maybe get a few swatches and then come home, since it's Sunday and everything closes early. Then tomorrow while the decorating team are in we browse the local charity shops for curtains for the rest of the building while I start thinking about what I actually want to have made up for the living room and my bedroom. Oh, and we get some blinds. That's probably an Ikea purchase; that's where my parents got the ones in our house."

"There's an Ikea near here?"

"It's a bit out of town, but yes there's an Ikea. They do curtains too, but they're ready-made so would probably need adjusting to fit. And the colours and patterns are often a bit hit and miss. Mostly miss."

"Let's measure the windows first and see what we've got to work with," Xanxus decided. This wasn't how he'd planned to spend his Sunday, but it was different and not remotely Varia-related so he didn't mind much. Plus he might get to wander around an Ikea, which from what he'd heard was definitely an experience. The past few days had been full of new experiences and he was enjoying all of them, even though sleeping on a slightly short single bed with his Cloud in her room in halls was rather cramped and there wasn't quite enough duvet to go round. Yes, he had slept and his friend had plenty of extra blankets so he'd even been warm, but it was still annoying to feel your feet sticking out from under the edge of the duvet or not being able to pull it all the way around your shoulders because somebody else was lying on the other edge.

"Ikea would be a good idea anyway; I need to get sheets, more pillows and a big duvet for my new and stupidly huge bed. _Why_ do I have a massive double bed, Xanxus?"

"I want your bed to be big enough that I can cuddle you on it without falling off," he reminded her dryly, well-aware that she'd already agreed to this and was just being silly and dramatic at this point.

"Ah yes, point. And I like cuddling you too. Still, _that_ bed's big enough that we could fit Squalo on it with us and possibly Lussuria as well."

The idea of having Florrie _and_ Squalo in bed with him at the same time was, well. Not even adding Luss to the picture could quite squash his reaction. "Shark's cuddly," Xanxus said huskily. Especially after sex; afterglow made his Rain positively languid.

His Cloud side-eyed him suspiciously. "Maybe so, but you are _not_ having sex in my bed, Xanxus. It's _my_ bed so the only person having sex in it will be _me_. Should I decide I want to, that is. You can visit whenever and bring Squalo along too, but you use one of the other beds for that."

"I promise." She was right, that would be a shitty thing to do. However that reminder made him feel slightly awkward about the fact that he was having a lot of sex with the shark at the farmstead, on the bed she'd slept in for over a year. Yes, it wasn't her bed _anymore_ , but it had been and traces of her Flames and presence still lingered in the frame and mattress, now all tangled up in his and the shark's Flames.

His bed at the Varia felt a bit like her too now despite her never even having _seen_ it, due to having the quilt she'd made for him on it and the Flame-proofing treatment having sealed traces of her in the weave of the material. Fuck, was that a kink or just wanting to feel her presence around him because she was his Guardian?

Something to wrestle with and somehow test later; curtains first.

* * *

After the decorating was done the moving-in process abruptly sped up; on the Tuesday Xanxus helped his friend finish packing all her belongings into boxes and put them in the back of his rented van, leaving the halls of residence for the last time and turning in the key at the office; Florrie would be getting a refund for the rest of the year, so she wasn't paying for a room she wasn't living in.

Then after everything was in the flat –if not unpacked– his friend sorted out what she wanted to take back to her parents' house –mostly bedding since her new double bed meant that its only use would be putting somebody up on her currently non-existent couch– loaded that in the van so Xanxus could drive them both down there to collect more of her belongings. He'd expected one or other of her parents to be in but in fact the only person present was Chickie, who immediately fell into a haggling session on which books and bedroom furniture Florrie would be taking with her and which would be left behind.

In the end the sisters settled on Florrie being allowed to take the chest of drawers, two of the bookshelves, most of the reference books, none of the romance novels and everything else she'd bought herself, so long as she took the single bed frame as well. Chickie's argument was that she didn't care what her sister did with it and could even take it to the dump; with the bed gone, she would finally have space for a proper wardrobe and a computer desk, which would be worth losing the chest of drawers and bookshelves over.

Since the bed frame needed to be fitted into the van somehow Florrie had given Xanxus veto on that, but he'd gone with it; it was sturdy and was one less thing to buy for the safe house. He'd have to cleanse it –he didn't want any nosy Mists reading impressions of his Cloud off it– but that wouldn't be hard. Getting it into the van wouldn't be that challenging either; it was another Ikea purchase, so fairly easy to disassemble.

Really, the most tiresome part of the process was loading all the books and CDs into cardboard boxes and carrying them out to the van. It was like the books expanded as they were removed from the shelves, taking up twice as much space as they normally would!

There was also an argument over the CD player, several pictures and the joint DVD collection, but Xanxus stayed well out of that. Yes they got loud, but there was no outright malice there; his getting involved could only go badly for him because he'd be _interfering_ and then they'd both be pissed at him. While they were busy arguing he loaded up the potted plants that Florrie's mother had set aside as hers to take away; considering the number of house plants there had been in her little room in university halls and the complete absence of them here, he suspected his Cloud was the only person in her family with a knack for keeping things alive. Yes, there _was_ a garden out the back with more pots, but that all got rained on regularly and therefore required less care. He also packed up the boxes that had been set out on the dining room floor for his friend to take; mostly kitchen things like pans, trays, tins, jugs and mixing bowls, plus a load of mugs and other mixed crockery, but there were also more framed pictures and a few blankets and cushions.

Florrie lost the CD player, won on the pictures and the DVD issue was solved by arcane and impenetrable means, which somehow resulted in his Cloud –after a short text conversation with her brother– walking away with a box of vinyl records, a record player, amplifier and speakers along with half a dozen board games and no DVDs at all. Xanxus however did not question the transaction and carried everything out to the van, teased Chickie some more over her midget status and then offered to buy takeout for dinner, which was approved by the newly-arrived Alfie.

It was after seven o'clock, dark and raining by the time they got back to the flat with everything, but it had been a good afternoon. Unloading everything went quicker than loading up had due to the liberal application of Mist-trickery, the furniture was soon situated and the easy things like the kitchenware, crockery and clothing were unpacked. The books were left in their boxes to be unpacked later –so _many_ books and it had been an effort Mist-tricking them all into the house without them getting wet– after which Xanxus helped his friend make the new bed, then flopped on it with her for half an hour.

"Thank you for helping," Florrie said eventually. "Your being here has made this so much easier."

"Welcome," he told her, toying idly with her hair. "Was fun. Never done this before." The only 'move' he'd ever done before had been moving out of the Iron Fort, which had involved throwing some clothes, his guns and a few other odds and ends into a sports bag at the dead of night right after the shark had taken over the Varia and abandoning everything else. He'd not seen any of that shit since; for all he knew it was still there in the rooms that had been his, waiting for the day he went back. Which he had no intention of doing, but the old fart definitely _wanted_ his 'son' back under his thumb so it still being there was a distinct possibility. Or maybe it had all been chucked out while he was on ice; who knew.

This had been a much more enjoyable experience, for all that it had also been more than ten times as much work. Still, he'd learned a lot about what moving house entailed for civvies and that was bound to be useful someday.

"Tea?" He asked. There'd been three different-sized teapots in with her things overall and a dozen varieties of tea, and they'd taken all her food out of the communal cupboards and fridge before leaving the halls so there were biscuits as well.

"You offering?" His Cloud asked drowsily.

"Yeah."

"Then yes, I'd love some tea. Actually I think I'll move to the main room too; I want another look at those swatches and how they go with the walls."

Well if she made a decision tonight they could order the curtains tomorrow and they might even be finished before Christmas. Xanxus sat up and stretched, then wandered off in search of tea; yes he was tired, but it was a good kind of tired. He felt like he'd really accomplished things today.

* * *

The winter solstice was on Friday, by which point Xanxus had helped his friend empty about half of her books onto the shelves and helped the men delivering the dining table, chairs and couch to get them into the flat. It wasn't a properly large sofa, but it was the best one there had been at the second-hand furniture place and would do for now. Florrie was fine with him buying a bigger, fancier sofa later since he'd made it clear he was basically buying it for himself, the dining table was more than large enough for four and the chairs were the right height for Florrie, although they were a bit low by his standards.

They were her chairs though, so it didn't matter.

There'd been a few more trips for little things like a bathroom cupboard, a stand for the record player, more bookshelves and a coffee table, along with practical necessities like a kettle and a few clocks, but Florrie was now mostly settled and had even baked bread this morning. That bread was gone, all eaten fresh, but another loaf's-worth of dough was rising and his Cloud was currently walking around the flat with hammer and picture pins, organising her picture collection by room and trying to decide how and where she wanted to hang them all.

Xanxus was sitting along the couch leafing through an art book of Indian architecture when Florrie knelt down by the coffee table with a stack of variously-sized clip-frames and a pack of photos; the Varia Boss glanced over as she tipped the pictures out and blinked.

"Who gave you those?" They were photos of him and his fellow Guardians; candid pictures taken at the Varia and on missions, documenting various distinctly unprofessional moments. Including a photo of teenage Squalo blushing scarlet; he'd tried to get his hands on one of those last year and failed, so how had his Cloud acquired one?

"Mammon," Florrie said agreeably. "Starting last Christmas we made an agreement: my overtime would be paid in candid pictures of you. Then after we bonded I haggled for pictures of my fellow Guardians as well; the pictures have to be non-incriminating, well-centred, properly focused and not obscene, but those were my only conditions. I'm putting most of them in an album but I want some of the nicer ones on my walls."

Blackmail photos. The kind of pictures she was describing were classified as blackmail photos by the Varia and his Cloud was hanging them on her _wall_ , for everybody to see and where nobody could feasibly remove them from without upsetting her; that was _evil_. "Can I see?"

"Try not to get fingerprints on them, please."

Xanxus set his book aside and leaned over the coffee table, teasing the prints apart by the edges and examining them in turn. Here was teenage Bel looking like a drowned rat and getting pulled out of a canal in Venice; Bel again, aged maybe ten with ice cream smeared across his face with a half-eaten sundae in front of him; Squalo grinning threateningly; Squalo blushing; teenage Squalo in a sari; adult Squalo soaking wet and naked save for a hand towel gripped around his hips as he yelled at somebody; Lussuria pouting grumpily; Lussuria rolling on the floor laughing; Mammon wrestling with a bowl of spaghetti with tomato sauce splattered across what was visible of their face; Mammon in a tiny wetsuit with a floppy cotton sunhat obscuring the upper half of their face –and Xanxus had seen nothing _anywhere_ until now that suggested such a thing had ever happened– Mammon with their hood askew being groomed by one of the Varia cats; Squalo asleep on the couch in his office with his mouth open; Lussuria in a frilly dressing gown; a much younger Bel sitting curled up and watching a grasshopper with one of the Varia cats sitting in exactly the same way next to him, also focused on the same thing.

They were really cute pictures and would not look at all out of place in a civilian home, although the Squalo-in-a-sari one would probably make people think the shark had a twin sister. He knew Squalo had a younger sister, but shark had mentioned being a middle sibling once so maybe he had an older sister too? Then there were the pictures of him; pictures he'd known about and some he hadn't. The one of him smeared in soot with his clothes singed he'd known about, for instance, because that had been an accident combining Wrath Flames and explosives and he'd been too dazed to react to the camera in time. The picture of him in a yukata he'd also known about, because Luss had taken it when they were in Japan one time and Luss didn't share his photos so the Varia Boss hadn't bothered to follow up. The picture of him napping on Bester could have been taken by anybody, but the decently large print of him curled up on a hotel bed in boxers and a T-shirt with the stuffed tiger Florrie had given him… who'd taken that? That was recent, so recent his freckles were showing. Also pictures of him rolling his eyes, pictures of him laughing, a picture of him tripping over Luss's damn peacock with eyes wide and hands thrown forwards –how had he missed that one being taken– and one of him standing in the rain with his hands on his hips, soaking wet and glaring.

There were non-Varia photos too; an olivine blonde eating a cheap ice cream cone with a dob of ice cream on the end of her nose, a black teenager with a big grin and dyed streaks in her curly hair, holding up two fingers in the 'peace' sign and wearing a shirt striped with the lesbian flag, both girls hanging onto Florrie with all three of them in matching school uniforms and beaming, a bunch of other candid shots of various teenagers –mostly girls– and some of her siblings and parents.

"Where are these going?"

"I'm putting a cluster of them in here, on the wall to the left of the front door," Florrie said, her attention on the glass she was clipping in place in front of the photo of Squalo in the tiny hotel towel. "The rest I'm dividing between the landing and the bedroom. I'm tempted to put the pictures of wet people on the landing so they're on the wall by the bathroom, for instance."

That would be funny and also slightly more private; casual visitors wouldn't see them there.

"The photo of you sleeping is going in the bedroom, as is the picture of Squalo sleeping," his friend went on, moving on to the picture of Bel plus cat. "I'm thinking of doing a little cluster of family over the chest of drawers and some more over my desk, so I can see them when I'm working. It depends how they look with the art though; if it doesn't work they're going in the album."

"You still helping Mammon with the accounts?" That was the only way to explain that photo of him with the freckles.

"No, but they sent me photos for my birthday with a note promising more pictures on future birthdays and Christmases."

That was so typically Mammon; gifts that cost them next to nothing yet were highly valued and that would cost anybody wanting to avoid embarrassment a _lot_ of money. Never mind the loopholes being exploited; the picture of Squalo blushing was very clearly here because shark had paid Mammon generously to make sure no Varia ever got hold of it, but Florrie wasn't Varia and it was her picture now.

Xanxus had to admit that he rather liked the idea of his Cloud having pictures of him in her house; he would have liked them to be slightly more _dignified_ pictures, but there were candid photos of silly moments among the ones of her friends and family so he'd at least blend in there. The one of Chickie perched on a chair screaming at a rather hairy spider, for instance, or Alfie with coloured goo splattered over him and a deadpan expression on his face. And one of that probably-lesbian friend of hers standing on a sea wall, freshly soaked by a wave and utterly shocked; nice to see it wouldn't just be Varia by the bathroom door.

"Do I get photos of you?"

"You've got photos of me, Xanxus."

"Not these kind of photos." Not funny candid photos, not pictures of her sleeping or from before he met her.

His friend looked up at him. "You can take photos while you're here if you like, but any older prints you will have to persuade my dad to get you copies of; he's got a lot of photos of me from when I was born onwards in albums at home. Dozens of albums, in fact; I've got eight albums here which are specifically of me rather than the family generally, but I have no idea where the old negatives are. Probably in a box at my parents' somewhere; Dad will know where."

"Can I see?"

"The photos of me, you mean? Sure; they're the albums on the bottom shelf over there; start with the unlabelled blue one and then on from there with the numbers and my initial."

Xanxus opened the first page of the suggested album, which revealed a photo of a newborn along with a date and time of birth, weight… and full name.

"Your middle name is _Patience_?"

Florrie glared at him long-sufferingly. "Yes, my middle name is Patience," she agreed dryly. "Feel free to laugh; everybody does."

Xanxus tried very hard _not_ to but he couldn't quite smother his sniggers. He was laughing at himself as well, to be honest; his Guardians had a vague theme of deadly sins going on –Squalo was a Superbi and his surname meant 'pride', Mammon was all about greed, Belphegor was Named after a demon of sloth, Lussuria spoke for himself– and on that theme his own personal sin was rage. Rage which was the opposite of the Catholic virtue of patience; the irony with almost thick enough to choke on.

His rage and fury had been tamed by Patience; he'd even _learned_ patience. The old fart had always insisted he needed to 'have patience' and now– he really did have to laugh.

He should put her down as 'Patience' in the Varia records. It was basically her Name at this point and she needed one, since she would be running this safe house for the Varia while she was in university. He had four –or five– sins to his name already; he should have a virtue to balance them out.

"It's very you," he managed eventually.

"Only because I work at it," his Cloud informed him tartly. "Dad says he named me that as a reminder and a blessing; kindness and mercy are only possible through patience and he wanted me to exercise both."

Well that was interesting. He had wondered why his mother had given him the names she had; it wasn't like he could ask her about it. His maternal grandparents could possibly shed some light on matters but he hadn't met them yet and wasn't even sure he wanted to. "I appreciate your efforts," he told her seriously, leaning over for a kiss.

"But you will nonetheless tell everybody," his friend deduced dryly as he pulled away again.

"Yes."

"I am going to _specifically_ ask Mammon for embarrassing pictures of you for next time."

"Fair." He didn't mind Florrie having them, she wasn't relishing his humiliation. Still grinning, Xanxus turned his attention back to the album and turned the pages. Baby Florrie was very cute, the photos of her playing in the bath with bubbles and toys in particular. Toddler Florrie wearing a paper bag on her head and reading a book was cute too, as was toddler Florrie wearing one of those child-harnesses, holding a teddy bear and eating an ice lolly at the zoo. The party with all the cuddly toys –plus toddler– wearing hand-decorated paper crowns was also completely adorable.

Xanxus abruptly wished he had pictures like this of his childhood; there _had_ to have been more good moments than he could remember. These photos documented the highlights of his Cloud's first years of life, the time she couldn't possibly remember for herself, as a reminder that she'd been happy and loved.

"Xanxus?"

He carefully set the album aside. "I don't have any pictures from when I was little," he enunciated roughly past the sudden lump in his throat. Hell, the only pictures he had of his mother were the porn ones horse had removed from Nono Cavallone's collection! At least his friend's father had documented all the people he cared about and not just illicit love affairs.

"Would you like a hug, Xanxus?"

"Yes." Very much.

His friend joined him on the sofa, kneeling over his lap and wrapping her arms around him. "My father's a photography nut," she said quietly, "has been ever since he was a teenager; he's still got slides of photos he took when he was my age. Most people don't document their lives and families _quite_ this obsessively."

"S'nice," Xanxus muttered, hugging her back. "Keeps the memories fresh. You were a cute toddler; adorable curly pigtails."

"There's a reason I wear my hair long and it's that it sticks out every-which-way when it's shorter," Florrie agreed ruefully, running her fingers through his much straighter hair. "Chickie should start featuring in the next album, since she was born shortly after I turned three. Along with the pictures of little me sleeping in weird places, if I remember right. Then Alfie came along just before I hit five."

"Let's see then," Xanxus decided firmly. He could continue enjoying the highlights of his Cloud's childhood by proxy before dinner.

* * *

All told, Namimori was not a place that Squalo would ever want to stay in for longer than a week. It had its charms, few though they were; mostly clustered together in the same place, as the dojo wasn't that far away from Takesushi, but he was fine keeping to brief visits. Although he was glad that Boss and Luss were off elsewhere this time; Luss was minding the Varia that were staying in Headquarters over the holidays and Boss was off with Florrie. The rest of the Varia's Officers and a few extras were in Namimori, for all that Mammon wasn't eating sushi and technically counted as extra due to having temporarily retired from the Mist Officer position.

Mammon was currently missing too many teeth to feel safe eating raw fish and didn't want to use illusions to bypass the issue, so was avoiding it instead. Growing up again meant losing baby-teeth, which was tiresome but necessary. However growing up twice as fast meant the teeth weren't being lost quickly enough naturally and that the adult teeth coming up underneath could come in all kinds of crooked as a result. So all of Mammon's front teeth between their canines had been pulled as a preventative measure and Mammon now had the perfect excuse to eat all the ice cream and other soft foods they wanted for however long it took for their adult teeth to come in properly. Mammon's only other problems at the moment were limited to the obvious issues pronouncing certain words, as the front teeth that had recently broken the gum line and prompted the extraction of the baby-teeth weren't really long enough for hard 'th' sounds and everybody who said it was adorable had been fined for 'lack of respect.'

Boss had said nothing at all and smirked a lot before leaving to go to Britain; Mammon had therefore fined him for 'thinking smugly too loudly' instead.

Enjoying the freedom of being five –and thus old enough to be allowed to complete small chores and errands independently– was what Mammon had come to Namimori to do while everybody else was eating sushi, as well as to illusion up a copy of Boss to fool the casual and not-so casual observers; if Boss was sighted in Namimori, then obviously he couldn't be elsewhere. Maybe not consistently in Namimori throughout the entire half-week the other Varia were there, but certainly in Japan and not England.

Private dining room or not, adding another three bodies and their personalities around the table would have made it feel smaller than it was, so it was good there were just the five of them: Squalo was here for the fish, Lessi was avoiding her father, Bel wanted to spend his birthday here as Boss was paying for all the food today despite not actually being present, Maínomai was here because Bel's birthday was technically an Officer event and Pýř despite not being an Officer was here due to being eighty-five percent of the new Mist Officer's impulse control. Sure, the flighty Mist wasn't _quite_ that bad anymore, but as Maínomai had been asked to evaluate Fran's skills while he was in Namimori so the details could be added to his apprentice file and Fran was currently Rokudo's ward, that had all the makings of a fun disaster that the Varia should probably try to mitigate slightly. Pýř being present meant any necessary damage control would be the Cloud's responsibility, so long as it wasn't severe enough to require kicking up the chain of command, in which case it would become Squalo's problem.

Despite it being almost two weeks since Boss had thrown Bel out of his office window and the stuck the Storm in Medical for 'impudence,' the blonde's wounds still hadn't healed. Boss had apparently done something with Harmony there that Luss hadn't dared interfere with, although the whatever-it-was slowing Bel's healing speed was also somehow preventing the gradually closing wounds from scarring. The overall result was that the Storm Officer was currently being held together by butterfly stitches in several highly visible places and needing to take considerable care when bathing, so was wearing quite a lot of bandages in an attempt to keep the open wounds as clean as possible.

Still, the sushi was as excellent as always. While the second round of dishes was being devoured Pýř started signing one-handed: 'Flames leaving school; Mist, Sky, Storm-mix and Rain grouping. Others remaining or scattering.'

So Chew Toy, Smokescreen and the two sensible Guardians all together. Squalo couldn't tell at this distance without really focusing; no wait, there was Mist-girl now that he was looking for her; active Flame-use made her so much easier to sense at a distance and yeah, based on proximity they probably were just exiting the school gates. Someone really ought to teach her how to hide better, as Squalo knew it could be done. They had clearly just got out of class and it was probably the start of their winter holidays again, since it was only one or so in the afternoon now.

'No Sun hitman?' Squalo moved his fingers to ask while loudly complaining about Bel hogging all the sashimi. He didn't care that it was the Storm's birthday, he could damn well share!

'With pervert-doctor, evidence suggests medical.'

"Teeth?" The Rain asked out loud.

Holding a finger up in the practically universal sign to wait, Pýř took a deep breath and clicked his tongue before responding aloud in Sicilian; Squalo had forgotten that Pyr didn't speak Japanese. "Edge of town, Shamal's home or safehouse on the outskirts; feels like nerve issues."

Mainomai nudged his partner with an elbow, "Sensory issues?"

"Migraine," Pyr confirmed. "Got his nerves all raw from passive Flame-use. Feels chronic."

"Probably not caused by the Curse breaking; might have made it worse but kids don't normally have chronic headaches," the Mist Officer said thoughtfully. "It's probably a bad habit that didn't adversely affect his adult self that often or his Cursed self much but growing up means restructuring parts of the brain, so wires getting crossed is likely and the ongoing passive Flame use is possibly making the pain a more permanent thing if he's trying to heal it with more Flames rather than stop and limit himself to his actual unenhanced physical capabilities while growing. After all, he's probably growing the fastest because of said indiscriminate passive use of Sun Flames and the Activation property inherent there, so long as he's making sure he's eating the right food to grow quickly on. Mammon's five-ish now so he could be as much as eight or so, but his bad habits and their consequences are not our problem."

Squalo had to smile at that summation; if the hitman was down with a migraine he wouldn't be bothering them or stirring up too much trouble, especially out on the edge of town. Namimori wasn't that large, being more residential sprawl for a good third of the town but the city limits would be a few kilometres out.

"So should we expect Chew Toy and Smokescreen to show up?" Squalo asked. Because if so, he was stealing the rest of the _hamo_ and scarfing it all down now.

"The girl's left them; going a different direction but moving slowly. The boys are heading in the direction of Chew Toy's home."

"So we can probably finish eating in peace." Squalo surmised, then stole most of the _hamo_ anyway.


	4. Chapter 4

**Pick up the pieces (and move on)**

After Bel's birthday lunch the Varia scattered, Squalo eventually wandering into the park where he had lost his original heart to the Vindice; Mammon's quick work had saved his life and probably Boss's too, keeping them alive and getting them out of the way of the ongoing fight. Apparently about three meters away from where he'd been downed was where Talbot's magic jars had been set up and the Curse officially broken. The park looked very different in the winter, the trees skeletal and reaching for the dim, overcast sky, but Squalo could still pick out the various features and see that spring morning all over again in his mind's eye.

The Varia's reports of what happened here were based off Mammon's observations and also partially cribbed from Lal's submission to the CEDEF, as the CEDEF was still as secure as a sieve; Lal Mirch might have seen something Mammon hadn't –bar Yuni being suspicious as fuck– as after coming to her senses and not marrying Colonello she had vanished with truly admirable speed and efficacy. Although that was probably because Lal had got her Rain Flames back, meaning they were no longer tangled up in the Rain Pacifier, augmenting Colonello's Flames so that the Curse didn't kill the sniper; Colonello didn't have much more than half Lal's reserves and could not _possibly_ have sustained the Curse by himself. That was why it had _not_ been him that Checkerface had originally picked. Lal staying tiny for decades afterwards should have been a clue that she was functionally an Arcobaleno, despite her tiny clear pacifier having a dark core rather than matching the colour of her Flames.

Being that spiritually off –missing the primary manifestation of her Will, a major aspect of her soul– and whatever resonance the Curse had induced between the two Rains explained all too well why Lal had allowed Colonello to go so far as to propose marriage; only feeling 'whole' around him would be one hell of a gaslighting experience, especially since it had been ongoing for several decades.

As he was finally thinking about all this he probably needed to deal with his own emotional baggage at some point. Not right now though; too many nosy Varia around, some of them with way too sharp Flame Senses for Squalo to be comfortable delving into something personal for long enough to find the root cause of the feeling. Unease was obvious and excusable; Namimori was not a good place for his health as he'd nearly died twice, had memories from the fake-future of losing more of his left arm here and oh, had to watch Boss get frosted again by a pawn who didn't even know how manipulated he'd been, while helpless to do fuck-all about it.

Sensing Mist-girl coming closer, he boxed all that up with a mental note to maybe speak with someone about a few things later; he had planned to spend New Year with Boss, so he might as well try Florrie for some of the personal stuff. She was a good listener and very private.

Mist-girl came into view up the path, carrying a few shopping bags with what he thought was a craft store logo on them and speaking to Maínomai about knitting; something about project length times and how it was possible to use Mist Flames to manipulate the needles and yarn, so multiple projects could be done simultaneously so long as they were of a similar type or pattern or else things could get awkward, but it was good practice for holding and maintaining different levels of focus. Leave it to a Mist to turn knitting into a training exercise.

Pýř was walking on the far side of his mission partner, also carrying a few bags and apparently ignoring the conversation in favour of looking around the park.

"–sure you start with a reasonably thick yarn with a nice colour, or even variegated colours as that way it takes less time to knit up and looks pretty even if you muddle up the stitches a bit. After all what matters is that you like it and it does what you made it for, so it turning out slightly lopsided isn't really –oh hi there Captain!"

"Maínomai," Squalo said; "Pýř." He then nodded at Mist-girl too, who managed a small smile. "Shopping?"

"Oh yes Captain! So many silk yarns in all different weights as well as some really nice merino, I had to buy some! Chrome-chan wandered in while I was browsing and we got talking and she's planning a few scarves to give people for birthdays and maybe a blanket, but she's putting that off until she's had a bit more practice; blankets are a big commitment and a bit much for a first project. Scarves are always fun though and you can never have too many," the new Mist Officer said earnestly, a riotously variegated knitted scarf wrapped around his neck and tucked into the collar of his coat. The scarf did not match his mittens, which were red and white with an intricate poinsettia pattern; Pýř's work rather than Maínomai's.

You wouldn't think looking at him that he held the in-Varia record for 'most kills as a mook' and was unofficially the Mist all the other Mists were most wary of. Because Mists tended to be cagy about things like admitting somebody scared them shitless but appropriate professional wariness was much easier to confess to, even though Maínomai was so completely terrifying he'd been Named as a warning to others.

Not that Maínomai thought he was scary, or even realised that the rest of his Division respected him as much as they did _because_ he terrified them; the new Mist Officer was one of the most overtly nice and friendly assassins in the Varia and was always happy to do a person a favour.

Squalo let his eyes slide back to Mist-girl. "Enjoy meeting the new Mist Officer?" he asked dryly, smirking as the teenager blinked in confusion for an instant before her eyes drifted across to Pýř, then back to Maínomai. Her jaw promptly dropped slightly.

"Captain!" said Mist Officer protested. "Hey Chrome-chan are you okay? Don't let Captain put you off; I'm only Officer because Mammon had to step aside due to their growing pains and Boss was already running Lightning Division so he couldn't take over things because running one Division is already a full-time job. Mostly what I do is mission paperwork, evaluations and desk-work like that; I'm here because Fran needs an evaluation added to his Apprentice paperwork, otherwise Bel probably wouldn't have bothered to invite me to his birthday party at all."

"What kind of evaluation?" Mist-girl asked cautiously, both hands now holding her shopping bags in front of her in a probably-unconscious effort to shield her vulnerable midsection.

"Oh nothing special; what kinds of Mist-work he's good at, how much he's improved over the past eighteen months and so on," Maínomai said blithely. "Also to see if he's got any questions and answer them, since his being a Varia Apprentice means we're supposed to teach him and his being officially Apprentice to the Mist Officer means that he's my responsibility now."

Mammon had offloaded Fran on his successor? That was funny, mainly because that also made interacting with Rokudo Maínomai's responsibility and Squalo was pretty sure the cheery Mist would seriously freak out the former Vendicare inmate. The Possession specialist expected everybody to have an angle and an ulterior motive and Maínomai would already be driving him completely to distraction because the new Mist Officer's only consistent ulterior motive was that he liked the people around him to be comfortable and happy. Rokudo had to have been eavesdropping at some point if he wasn't still and would be working himself up into a frenzy of paranoia over what Maínomai's angle was when the Mist Officer genuinely didn't have one.

"I'll be stopping round at your place tomorrow morning, so make sure he's in okay?" Maínomai continued earnestly to Mist-girl, smiling hopefully. "Mammon gave me the address and I'd like to get it over with in good time so I can get the forms filled out and everything in order before we go home."

The girl nodded, looking a little dazzled and overwhelmed by the onslaught of genuine consideration.

"It's getting dark," Squalo commented, getting to his feet; it was barely mid-afternoon but the overcast sky and the time of year meant that the actual usable daytime was very short. "Should head back to the hotel for a bit before dinner." Dinner would be sushi again, because it was still Bel's birthday and the brat prince would have sushi for every meal if he could.

"Oh yes good point Captain; I need to drop off my yarn too, I can't take that to the restaurant and I should probably grab a hat too since it'll be much colder when we head back to the hotel after dinner," Maínomai babbled cheerfully, turning and heading off down the path and tucking Mist-girl's arm over his as he went. "Come on Chrome-chan, we can talk more on the way; is there anything you'd like to know about improving your skills? You're a Vongola Guardian, so you need to be the best you possibly can and you can't achieve that without asking questions of more experienced Mists. I had lots of questions when I was starting out at the Varia and I still ask questions because how else can I get better? Just because I'm Officer doesn't mean I'm the very best in every single specialisation there is and there's always more to learn."

Squalo fell in behind the Mists, Pýř dropping back to walk silently beside him. It wasn't far to the hotel they were staying in this time and Bel was there already; as was Squalo's part-time student, as it happened. Was he visiting of his own volition or had Bel grabbed him in passing, and if the latter, why? It wasn't like the Storm Officer was at all involved –or even interested– in the surreptitious interference and mitigation strategies Squalo had been put in charge of there.

Well, he'd find out shortly; it didn't feel like anybody was dying so there was no reason to hurry.

* * *

The sword-brat was sat at the suite's dining table, which was set Parisian style for a twelve-course meal in front of his chair. Bel was standing at his shoulder, a wickedly sharp blade dancing between his fingers as he pointed to the various pieces of cutlery with his other hand and explained the appropriate order in brisk but straightforward Italian.

" _Always_ work from the outside inwards, peasant; it is considered crass in truly rarefied circles to have all the cutlery on the table at once, but the Vongola prefer to put on a gaudy show of wealth and pretentiousness so you need to know certain specifics. See the fork laid out on the right? The only forks to ever appear on the right are for oysters or snails, which are either a _hors d'œuvre_ or one of the earliest courses. If the course is snails then snail tongs will arrive with the dish; the Prince will tutor you on proper eating methods with the specialised utensils on your next visit to Sicily in the spring, since the preparation of such delicacies takes time and I expect proper technique to require a little practice to sink in."

"So I start at the outside and work inwards with each subsequent course," sword-brat repeated carefully in the same language, eyes intent; "the mother-of-pearl spoon on the right is only for caviar, other spoons on the right are for soup, the only fork on the right is for oysters or snails." His pronunciation was much better than it had been last spring; good to know he was keeping up the language practice.

"Correct peasant. On the left, the two-tined outer fork is a cocktail fork, for eating prawns and garnishes such as olives. Next to it is the fish fork; it goes with the differently-shaped knife to your right. It is only the fish knife which is required to be a special shape, but some people have a three-tined fork to go with it rather than the regular four-tined type. That is merely an affectation and completely unnecessary, so do not bother yourself over the differences. The crescent-shaped dish to the upper left of your plate is for fish bones; if one is not provided, simply place the bones on the rim of your plate. Always leave your cutlery on your plate when you have eaten all you intend to of a particular dish, and if using two utensils be sure to line them up to indicate the server may now remove your plate."

"So hors d'oeuvres and other starters, then soup followed by fish. When I've eaten enough, leave the cutlery lined up on the plate."

"Hm," the Storm Officer hummed, ignoring his fascinated audience; Bel rarely instructed anybody, so this was a rare opportunity. Squalo wished he had a camera. Then again, the comment about continuing the lesson in the spring implied it might be possible to film that at least. "See the utensil laid out inside the fish fork? That's a lobster pick. If you are served lobster a cracker will be brought with the dish."

"Ah, so like with snails."

"Indeed. Different courses are served with different wines; the small glass at the front is a sherry glass, which would be served with the caviar and snails and possibly with whatever was brought to eat with the cocktail fork; if a new course requires a different wine then it will be brought around with the food. Do _not_ continue to drink from your current glass if new wine is served; wines are selected specifically to complement the different dishes and should be sipped sparingly throughout the course, in between mouthfuls of food to clear the palate. The next glass with the taller stem is for white wine, which would be drunk with the fish and potentially with the soup: soups are highly varied and may be complemented by a wide range of different wines, so a meal with only a few courses may be complemented by a single wine. The largest glass is for water, which will be served throughout."

"So white wine is only for fish and maybe with soup, depending on the soup, and when I'm served new wine with a course I drink that wine with that course and all subsequent courses, until I'm offered a new wine."

"Yes. After the fish comes the entrée, which is _always_ accompanied by a new wine in a different glass, frequently a red; that cutlery is nothing special, as a range of entrées are usually served for the diner to choose from. I recommend you ask the server to tell you the names of the dishes being offered, then pick whatever you recognise as pleasant; accidentally selecting a dish you dislike will inevitably lead to you offending your host, so do _not_ ask your fellow diners or your server for what they consider best." Bel paused. "I suggest learning a little French; many of the more pretentious dishes and sauces have French names and spending time in the Vongola kitchens will teach you the basics of what such sauces and dishes contain."

"Pick an entrée I recognise, drink the new wine and make time beforehand to learn food words, got it."

Bel grinned, his knife briefly caressing sword-brat's throat. "At this rate I'm not going to get a chance to bleed you, am I? Such an attentive student; Squa-sempai is so fortunate."

"Haha, thanks!" Sword-brat didn't pull out that bullshit grin of his though; this was a much smaller smile. "Is it the main course next?"

"Patience, peasant; it _may_ be the main course, but you may also be served a palate cleanser at this point. See the fork directly above your plate? Unlike the cutlery to the sides, where one works from the outside in, with the cutlery _above_ the plate you go from the bottom up."

"It looks more like a spork." Brat used the English word, since it didn't really translate.

Bel snorted in amusement. "It is formally called an ice cream fork, peasant; if you are brought a sorbet as a palate cleanser you eat it with that. Another common palate cleanser is punch, which would arrive in a cup or glass and simply be drunk. Punches are frequently alcoholic, so be careful there. You do not have to drink all of it, any more than you have to drink all of any of the glasses of wine. Being a Vongola Guardian, your hosts may well _want_ to get you drunk in order to seize the advantage when you are negotiating on your Sky's behalf later, or even to extract inside information during mealtime conversation. Be cautious and drink as little alcohol as possible; if you empty your glass, your hosts will ensure it is promptly refilled."

The younger Yamamoto nodded, eyes sharpening ever so slightly at the warning.

"We have now reached the largest fork; that is for the main course. There may be other dishes served between the entrées and the main course; those are called relevés or removes and may appear to be main courses, save that those around you will only take small portions. If you have not reached the last of the large forks, do _not_ allow yourself to be served with more than a modest portion. Being too full to continue before you reach the end of the meal is the height of rudeness." Bel paused. "However even if it _is_ the main course, do not get carried away; there are still many courses to come, as evidenced by the remaining cutlery."

"The largest fork is for the main course, but I have to continue to pace myself so as to make it to the end of the event," sword-brat repeated, half to himself, "and keep an eye on those around me."

"The ladies in particular," Squalo suggested quietly; "men might overindulge but the women will be wearing fitted gowns and won't want to look bloated."

"Quite," Bel said shortly, glancing over at his audience for the first time and gifting them with a repressive pout. "See the innermost fork, peasant? The left-hand tine is thicker than the others; that is the mark of a salad fork. It is _not_ for eating leafy salad with, but a cooked vegetable course after the main course. Along with the accompanying knife, of course; _always_ use the knife if your fork is accompanied by one. You have the salad cutlery as your last savoury course, but you still have cutlery above your plate; the cheese knife and nut pick are for the cheese and nut course. There may be a cold dish such as pâté served at this point, depending on your cutlery; make sure to eat things you know you like, if possible, and to eat sparingly otherwise."

"Salad fork has a thicker outside tine and is for eating vegetables, not leafy salad," sword-brat murmured, "and the knife above my plate is for cheese, with a spike for nuts. Is it for piercing nut shells?"

"Correct. Nuts are generally served in their shells, so that they do not dry out and have not been handled before you eat them." Bel paused again, but there was no further comment from his current student so the royal continued:

"After the cheese and nuts is when dessert is served, with its own wine accompanying it. It may be hot or cold and is to be eaten with the spoon and fork above your plate; you pick up the utensil with the hand the handle is facing towards. Your dessert may be followed by fresh fruit. It is also possible that at some point in the meal –generally after the main or dessert course– you will be brought a bowl of water on a doily or napkin with an ornament of some kind floating in it; that is a finger bowl for washing your fingers, not something to drink. Dip your fingers in the bowl and dry them on the doily; the server will then either move it aside, or else start bringing the next course around. If they bring food, pick up the bowl _and the cloth_ and move them to your left, up by the bread plate."

"Dessert is eaten with the spoon and fork above my plate at the top and comes with another wine; if I get brought a bowl of water it's for washing my fingers in. There may be fruit at the end," the younger Yamamoto paraphrased.

"Coffee comes after the dessert and the fruit so by that point you will have survived the meal, hopefully without embarrassing yourself," Bel concluded. "At least not with your table etiquette; your conversational failings may yet blight the occasion."

"Coffee is last and after it the meal is over," sword-brat concluded. "Thank you, Belphegor; I didn't know any of that!"

"I was fully aware of your ignorance, peasant," the Storm Officer said dryly. "I expect you to have tutored your fellow peasant in the basics by next spring, so that you can both learn how to use the various different utensils appropriately when you visit." Bel turned to grin unpleasantly at Mist-girl. "She will need the lesson too, after all, and a delicate stomach will make matters rather more challenging for her."

Squalo snorted at that euphemism for Mist-girl's fake organs; Bel was at least being polite.

"Is Xanxus-san not here?" Mist-girl asked, glancing around the suite as Maínomai abruptly remembered he was supposed to be putting his purchases away and hurried towards the room he was sharing, Pýř ambling after him.

"Not currently," Squalo told her casually as Bel stepped back to allow sword-brat to get up from the table. Boss was in fact in England, but Mammon had probably taken the illusory Boss out with them since it was getting dark and having an apparent adult to hand would mean not getting stopped by concerned strangers.

"Please could you tell him I would like to accept his offer of medical assistance for next summer," Mist-girl said quietly but very firmly.

Boss had offered her Varia Medical's expertise? Probably for replacing her internal organs and converting them using the methods that Luss and Mammon had pioneered on his heart; that would give them plenty of scope to refine the process on a range of different organs. "I'll let him know," the Rain Officer drawled. They'd have to figure out what she was missing in order to have the organs on hand, but that wouldn't be hard if they could get their hands on her medical records and they had over half a year to get things sorted out.

"Thank you," Mist-girl murmured.

"Sempai, can we ask more Vongola questions now?" Sword-brat asked hopefully in Italian, rocking slightly on his feet.

Why not. "Sure," Squalo agreed, walking across the room to settle in an armchair as Bel scooped up the cutlery and glassware, loading it onto the trolley standing off to one side and vanishing out the door with it. "Sit down, both of you," he added, glancing over at Chew Toy's Right and Left Hand; "we've got a few hours until dinner so we may as well get comfortable."

* * *

"So who are the two guys you arrived with?" Sword-brat asked in slightly choppy but completely coherent Italian as soon as he and Mist-girl were settled on the sofa to Squalo's right.

"Maínomai's the new Mist Officer since Mammon's dealing with growing pains and Pýř is his mission partner," Squalo said easily, not specifying that technically Pýř was still Maínomai's Squad Leader and unofficial minder. Surprisingly good with intelligence and paperwork or not, Maínomai was _not_ a field commander by any stretch of the imagination. More of a loose cannon, at least when assigned without his partner.

"Oh so like Reborn then," Squalo's part-time student commented brightly. "He's not doing so much with Tsuna at the moment; mostly assigning written exercises."

Pýř walked back into the main room with a bag, settled on the sofa on the far side of the coffee table from the brats and produced his knitting, settling in to continue whatever that pale green and black wool was going to become. Slippers maybe? Could you even knit those?

"I want hot chocolate. Does anybody else want hot chocolate?" Maínomai asked as he emerged from his room.

"The Prince wants hot chocolate," Bel stated, walking back into the main room and closing the outer door behind him.

"Sure, why not," Squalo decided; hearing the Storm Officer walking sword-brat through a twelve-course meal had made him a bit hungry. "Brats?"

"Haha, I'd love a hot chocolate!"

"I'm sure you'd like hot chocolate too, wouldn't you Chrome-chan?" Maínomai said with a brilliant smile, meeting Mist-girl's eyes for a moment. The teenager blushed.

"Tha-thank you, Maínomai-san."

"Okay then, hot chocolate for all, coming up!" The Mist Officer headed over to the kitchenette, fishing in cupboards for a pan and getting milk out of the fridge, but producing two boxes of Italian hot chocolate powder sachets from his coat pockets. Only a Mist would consider hot chocolate something worth keeping in an expanded pocket so as to always have some to hand.

"Squalo-san?" Mist-girl asked once she'd subsided back into a normal colour range. "What does a Varia apprenticeship involve?"

"It's generally for people who aren't adults yet but still want to join the Varia despite not meeting the Naming qualifications," Squalo replied. "Sometimes kids from Alliance backgrounds get sponsored in" –like Mahi had been, technically by Squalo himself– "but generally teenagers from civvie backgrounds who get spotted by assassins on missions as having potential for Quality. Apprentices are formally under the supervision of Varia Housekeeping until they're old enough to become mooks, but some of them get picked up by Varia veterans who want to pass on their skills and those ones stay attached to their sponsor for longer." It did not need to be said that Apprentices were statistically more likely to end up getting properly Named than the regular mooks were.

"Which explains why the Varia was so depleted in the fake future really," Maínomai added, walking over with the mugs of hot chocolate on a tray; the Mist had definitely done something there to speed the cooking process up, like instantly raising the temperature of the milk, for all that Squalo hadn't sensed any Flames in action. "Since the Bazooka creates a simulation based only on primary drives, Varia recruitment in that ten-year theoretical time-frame would be limited to people who were already determined to become Varia Quality before the simulation began, mostly those already part of the Alliance and in their mid-to-late teens. It didn't account for people whose goals and aims changed in response to meeting Varia assassins, civilians getting offered positions by passing assassins based on proven Quality or gravitating to the Varia following catastrophic life changes. Which is why Captain was keen to pick up Fran; for him to have become a Varia Officer _in_ the simulation, it had to have been his driving ambition even before the whole thing started."

That was indeed why Squalo had made the effort to recruit the mouthy little pest, despite him having been all of eight at the time of recruitment. The Rain Officer was pretty sure the brat had Alliance connections and was currently leaning towards him being somehow related to the recently-retired Fuseau; there was a certain physical resemblance there and Fuseau was from a not-exactly-Alliance family of Mists –the Velato– who liked to stay under the radar.

Also, having met Fran's 'granny,' Squalo had got the distinct impression that the elderly woman had known _exactly_ who he was and why he wanted custody of her grandson –great-grandson actually– and had been laughing at him behind her eyes all through the discussion and signing of custody papers. The idle reference to 'her husband' –whom Fran had not _once_ mentioned– had probably been a clue, but Squalo still couldn't pin it down. It was frustrating. Boss had avoided that trip so was yet to actually meet Fran in person, much less the pest's relatives, so couldn't help narrow things down there.

There was a ripple of Mist from the girl; Rokudo joining the conversation. "So you target civilians and children and trap them in a life of death and bloodshed?" the Vendicate inmate inquired provocatively.

Squalo choked, snorted, carefully set his mug down on the coffee table and burst out into loud laughter, hanging onto the arm of his chair in an effort not to end up rolling on the floor. Bel was cackling as he flopped over the back of the sofa, Pýř was smirking and Maínomai was looking slightly baffled by the accusation. The Rain Officer could vaguely sense Rokudo seething at being mocked, but it was really hard to focus on that past the sheer ridiculousness of the former inmate's assumptions.

"Voooi!" Squalo finally managed to wheeze, "I'm the only person here whose background was vaguely Alliance –I went to mafia school even– and I'm the only one who _didn't_ have a kill count before joining!" His first kill had been Tyr, in fact, which had rather set the tone for the rest of his Varia career.

"I murdered my twin brother and all the household servants when I was eight, then joined the Varia six months later because I was bored and assassination sounded interesting," Bel volunteered toothily, twirling several knives. "Then I killed the Storm Officer and got Named by Boss within half an hour of joining." Bel actually held the Varia record for 'shortest time between recruitment and Naming,' since people like Boss who hadn't been recruited did not count and neither did those who were Named during recruitment due to already being Quality.

"Two," Pýř said shortly in Sicilian before pointedly turning his attention back to his knitting.

"Erm, I really have no idea how many people I killed before I got Named?" Maínomai offered sheepishly when the brats' attention shifted to him. "I mean, my control wasn't great when I went Active and I caused a lot of collateral damage along the way and I never kept track _anyway_ because why would you? I mean, I've probably killed fewer people on contract as a Varia assassin over the past decade than in the years before I signed up."

Understatement; in the six months before he got Named Maínomai had trashed the Varia's previous record of 'most kills while a mook' –which had been six or so– by a factor of at _least_ ten, and reports of his behaviour at the time indicated that kind of thing had been normal for him. Maínomai was _all_ about cheerfully oblivious overkill.

Speaking of which, the way Yamamoto the younger's Flames twitched as he grinned at the Mist Officer indicated that brat's response to meeting people capable of overpowering him without so much as breaking a sweat or even noticing how massively they outclassed him was just the same as ever. Teenagers, seriously; well, sword-brat would hopefully get over that reaction, given time. Maínomai was nice though, so he'd probably dismiss it as nerves.

"How did you kill so many?" Rokudo demanded.

"Without the Vindice carting me off, you mean?" Maínomai clarified. "Mostly by avoiding straight-up murder, generally speaking. I mean I _did_ straight-up murder quite a few people, but that was hate groups and drug-peddlers and that organ-harvesting ring that wanted to steal my innards; I only showed up in their warehouse at all because I was looking for flu medication! That was no reason to try and chop me up for parts! I was completely justified there and they had it coming!"

That sounded like an interesting story, mainly because how did 'looking for flu meds' turn into 'break into a warehouse' rather than 'rob a pharmacy'? Stumbling into an organ-trafficking ring was however completely typical of the Mist; that his mission partner was one of the Varia's three generalists –the most senior one in fact– said it all, really.

"When you say 'avoiding straight-up murder,' what did you do instead?" Sword-brat asked, bullshit smile firmly in place.

"It was stuff like making cars stall and accidentally causing massive multi-vehicle pile-ups or collapsing buildings by not limiting my area of effect and I think I cracked a dam that way once," the Mist Officer admitted blithely. "Anyway there was a big flood and lots of people died in that. And collateral damage stuff like me making somebody walk into traffic and lorries swerving into shop windows and buses overturning and so on. Once I was experimenting with a tree and I turned the fruit hallucinogenic by accident? Which resulted in a lot of pigeons doing crazy suicidal stunts and people dying in a range of bird-related accidents. All kinds of weird stuff really."

It was the cheerfully unconcerned tone that really sold it; brats were getting a front-row seat on what made Maínomai so scary. He really did not care unless people who mattered to him might get hurt, and even then he only cared about those specific people. Everybody else got tolerated and he was even nice to them, but if they started being a threat –even accidentally– to the physical or emotional wellbeing of somebody he actually _liked_ , the Mist would bury them without hesitation.

He might manage to be sad about it afterwards though. For all of a minute, possibly.

"That doesn't sound like illusions," sword-brat commented, genuinely curious underneath the idiotic smiling overlay this time.

"Oh there's _far_ more to Mist than illusions," Maínomai said promptly. "I mean, generally speaking there are two main threads of Mist-effects: the ones that happen inside people's heads and the ones that physically affect reality, which take more Flames to accomplish. There's crossover in various places with different specific disciplines, but that's the general distinction. Illusions happen in people's heads, same as Possession and Puppetry and Bespeaking and Hypnotism and all that; physical Mist effects are things like Conjuration, Real Illusions, Curses, Enchantments, Territories, Alteration and so on. The borderline stuff includes Farseeing, Psychometry _et cetera_ ; disciplines involving both the mental and the physical."

Squalo glanced at Mist-girl, who looked like her world had just been twisted sideways and inside-out. Or that Rokudo's had, depending on who was in the driver's seat right now; Mammon's report from the Ring Battles farce had indicated that Rokudo was a Possession specialist with an above-average skill in Conjuration and about middling in Real Illusions, which was pretty pathetic considering what a well-trained Mist could achieve with even half his reserves. Mist-girl seemed to be specialising in Conjuration and Real Illusions, mainly out of necessity since keeping her own organs in place was a full-time effort.

"So for instance I can Bespeak" –' _like this'_ rang clearly in Squalo's mind without his ears being involved– "and that's just my Flames affecting your mind, but if I Alter this cushion into, say, a cuddly toy" –there was a flicker of indigo and the sober brown cushion twisted into a cartoonish plush cat with a toothy Cheshire smile and pink and purple stripes– "and that's not in anybody's mind, that actually happened and even if all the Flames are leeched out of it this will remain a toy forever." Maínomai tossed the plush over the coffee table at sword-brat, who caught it and poked it curiously.

"It's got pellets in," sword-brat said, tone all bemused fascination as he twisted the Cheshire cat this way and that; sure enough, the faint noise from the toy made it clear the Mist Officer hadn't just Altered its shape, texture and colour but also the physical structure of the synthetic stuffing.

Mist-girl took the toy and turned it over in her hands, a faint prickling undercurrent in her Flames making it clear that on the far side of town Rokudo was freaking out at that casual display of power.

"How can you use Flames that easily?" Sword-brat asked, glancing between the toy and the Mist Officer. "I thought you needed a ring or another kind of focus like a weapon to draw them out unless you got shot with a Dying Will Bullet."

Pýř snorted contemptuously. "Maybe if you're weak or inexperienced," he scoffed in Sicilian, not looking up from his knitting. Squalo knew the Cloud didn't need to keep his eyes on his work, but it was a good excuse to avoid eye-contact and ignore entire chunks of the conversation.

"Flame-rings are tools for focusing," Bel commented comfortably. "The lower the grade of the ring, the easier it is for a person with small reserves to call out their Flames through it. However a low-grade ring wielded by a person with larger reserves requires them to control their Flames to limit the quantity channelled through the ring, or else they will break it; a very useful control exercise to teach subtlety and stealth."

"The Vongola Flame Rings are beyond A-rank, meaning they require very large reserves to get full usage out of them," Squalo added, "but they're also really user-friendly in that just about anybody can spark their Flame off them regardless of reserves and they're responsive enough for very fine detail work as well. Regular A-rank rings aren't that flexible, so a Flame-user is more likely to pick a ring which is graded to fit their personal style of usage rather than just the size of their reserves. A properly trained Flame-user won't take the brute force approach at all; that's messy, unsubtle and wasteful besides, never mind that the majority of the more complex Flame techniques just do not work if you try to pour on the power." Medical applications in particular; Sun Division actually skewed low in terms of reserves compared to the rest of the Varia due to this.

"Oh so _that's_ what happened in the fake future with Hibari-san," sword-brat said, looking enlightened.

"Explain?" Squalo requested; he'd got his own set of fake memories of the older version of the tonfa-happy Cloud, but still didn't know what his part-time student was referring to there.

"Ah, when Hibari-san was fighting Gamma he shattered his ring right after calling out his Box Weapon," sword-brat explained. "Then he put on another one and continued fighting."

Squalo ground his teeth at such wastefulness and disrespect of good craftsmanship, as well as the associated implication that none of the fake-future Vongola Guardians had been capable of anything requiring subtlety or fine control. Or even considered that subtlety and fine control might be useful skills to have; that was worse. In a small town like Namimori they'd be fine, but on a national or international scale? They'd be eaten alive before they even noticed the danger lurking in the shadows. "How did you get a front seat on that battle, brat?"

"Ah, well," brat flashed a bullshit grin and scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "Shortly after getting our Box Weapons Tsuna sent Gokudera and I out in the woods looking for Hibird and we ran into Gamma. Didn't go so well, haha."

Presumably it had gone completely to shit if they'd run into the fake-future Gamma, who despite being a depressed drunk from what Squalo 'remembered' had still been a very strong and wily combatant. "I'd have thought the two of you would make an effective team, even against a much more experienced opponent," Squalo pointed out, having a pretty good idea of what had probably happened but wanting to make his part-time student actually say it aloud. Learning to recognise lost causes was an important part of growing up, as was learning to extract yourself from abusive relationships of any kind. An abuser wouldn't stop unless they lost all contact with their victim and trying to make them stop without taking precautions against future reoccurrence just meant the abuser would shift to more subtle tactics in order to maintain control.

Sword-brat's eyes dropped to his hot chocolate. "Gokudera didn't want to tag-team," the teenager said quietly; "made it clear he only puts up with me because Tsuna says so."

"So you both got completely trashed by the Black Spell Third Squad Leader because Smoking Bomb is an arrogant moron who'd rather die than cooperate with people who are actually his allies," Squalo deduced, abruptly furious on his part-time student's behalf. Kid had been following orders from his Sky, the same orders the fucking Storm-trash had clearly disregarded completely, getting a fellow Guardian badly injured as a result of his disobedience. What the fuck?! Disregarding and destroying your own tactical advantage, demoralising and alienating an ally, getting injured and getting your ally injured, flouting orders and who knew what else had happened in that fake-future. What kind of fucking Stupid bullshit was that?

"Pretty much," sword-brat agreed, pulling out that bullshit grin again.

Bel finished his hot chocolate and set the mug down loudly on the dining table behind him, usual smile nowhere in evidence. "The Prince thought he had lowered his standards sufficiently to no longer be affected by Smoking Bomb's all-encompassing Stupidity," the Storm Officer said flatly, "but clearly not. The Prince is going to Takesushi; the chef's fish is never disappointing." With that the blonde grabbed his coat and left the suite.

"I should probably go too; dad's going to want me to help out," sword-brat said, setting his mostly-full mug down on the coffee table.

"No, you're staying until you've finished your drink," Squalo countered flatly. Brat needed time to get past the bad memory and chocolate could only help. "In the meantime I'll walk you through a few control exercises for your Flames that will give you a better grasp of your output and get you more familiar with the feel of your reserves; rings are a crutch and you shouldn't need them at all in the day-to-day. Learning to pull on your Flames without a focus will also help your sensory skills and enable you to hide your presence from others." The Rain Officer glanced at Mist-girl, "which is something you could both stand to learn."

"I don't mind giving Chrome-chan a few tips there," Maínomai volunteered, perking up and looking over at his prospective pupil. "It's much trickier with Mist than with Rain –our Flames are less cohesive and shed everywhere– but there are ways around that and I'm sure it wouldn't take you that long to pick it up; you're really hard-working."

Mist-girl went slightly pink again, but still looked pleased. Good; knowing what he did now of how destructively individualistic Smokescreen was, Squalo wanted these two to have a few more tricks up their sleeves for when the scum inevitably left them in harm's way again. Chew Toy clearly wasn't addressing the root of the issue –if he even knew it existed which given his head-in-the-sand tendencies was not guaranteed– so it was bound to happen sooner or later. Trash like that didn't change.

* * *

Squalo slumped back in his seat on the Varia plane, grateful to be leaving Namimori. He'd not slept particularly well last night and had then been woken up early by a phone call from Luss to give him the heads up that Don Vongola had been Displeased to have Boss evading him on yet another social occasion, so had arranged a formal meeting with the Head of the Varia for mid-January, which was enough notice for claiming a prior commitment to be impossible and not quite late enough for Varia flu season to have kicked in yet. That was going to be shit; Squalo mentally pencilled in another trip to England for his Sky afterwards, then told Luss to actually pencil it into the mission calendar so that other missions in the area could be arranged around it.

After that Squalo had given up on getting back to sleep again, showered and eaten breakfast then headed out to Kokuyo with Maínomai and Pýř for Fran's evaluation. Brat had been asannoying as ever, calling Squalo a fairy and insulting his hair, but since Squalo's mental picture of fairies now included Boss in that Wild Hunt outfit –and he was definitely going to let his Sky fuck him out of doors while wearing that once the weather got a bit warmer again– it was rather less irritating than it might have been.

Maínomai's response to getting called a fairy had been to counter calmly that he felt he was more of a changeling, which the ten-year-old pest had taken on board with a nod, calling the Mist Officer 'changeling' thereafter. After that however things had gone downhill; Maínomai had been completely immune to the Apprentice's illusions and both Pýř and Squalo had been able to see through them with very little effort, so it hadn't been possible to evaluate them. Maínomai had just shrugged and said there were many other fields Mist could be applied to beyond illusions and asked Fran to demonstrate his expertise in those, which had led to the revelation that Fran only knew about illusions.

Maínomai had promptly switched to teaching mode, which had been amusing yet intimidating; amusing because Mist-pest clearly couldn't decide if he was delighted or irritated at having his skills so comprehensively dismissed and intimidating because the Mist Officer's spiel and accompanying examples made it very clear he was proficient in _every_ existing discipline his Flames offered, despite only actually specialising in Alteration and having been officially banned from Curses before even being Named. Curses by their very nature were not neatly contained ideas and could easily spread beyond the original target if a Mist wasn't very careful. Despite all the improvements to his technique and self-control over the past decade, nobody in authority felt comfortable lifting the 'no Curses' ban; the level of collateral damage and risk of it to lives and infrastructure was very much reduced when the Mist Officer was required to be fully in control of all the variables.

A little experimentation proved Fran had a knack for Enchantments, which had the ten-year-old declaring flatly that 'the changeling is my superhero mentor now.' Maínomai had promptly mentioned Marvel Squad before either Squalo or Pýř could stop him and everything had gone to shit right then; Mist-pest had instantly demanded he be allowed to join 'the superhero team,' Maínomai had promised to arrange a visit from Hawkeye to see if Fran 'was suitable' and Squalo had put his face in his hands and seriously considered the logistics of early retirement.

Hawkeye was coming up on retirement age, although being a sniper meant the Cloud might well hold out for a few years past thirty. Even so, the Marvel Squad Leader would probably be retiring before Fran was old enough to properly join the Varia –most Apprentices did so between the ages of sixteen and eighteen– and that would put Spiderman as the most likely successor to the Squad Leader position, since they were the youngest and also the most capable at people-wrangling. The idea of Spiderman and Fran in the same Squad when the wall-crawling Cloud was _already_ a complete motor-mouth… well, at least Deadpool was long since retired. Fran meeting Deadpool could only go catastrophically wrong for everybody else.

The evaluation complete, Maínomai had gone looking for Rokudo and spent ten minutes berating the teenager for the abysmal state of his hideout and his failure to renovate it –no running water! No electricity! Mould growing on the walls, no heating, what are you all eating, no wonder Chrome-chan's so thin– then demonstrated that fixing the place up was the work of a moment for an Alteration specialist. Neat to watch in an abstract way as windows mended themselves with not so much as a crack to show how damaged they'd been to begin with, but increasingly disconcerting as Squalo tried to list all the variables that would have to be accounted for: flooring, foundations, walls, insulation, glass, plumbing, wiring, doors, the various sizes and shapes of the different buildings…

Then while Rokudo was trying not to shit his pants in terror the Mist Officer had added on a mental component to his wholesale repairs –which Squalo was willing to bet money would even be mostly up to local building codes– so that nobody would notice them or think them anything out of the ordinary, told Fran he was welcome to come back to the Varia immediately if he wanted –they did technically have shared custody– and headed back to town to do some more shopping.

Mist-pest had naturally decided that yes, of _course_ he wanted to meet 'superheroes,' so he was currently napping on Luss's seat in the Officer's cabin. Squalo was grateful for the quiet; as soon as they were back in Sicily he was visiting his sister and taking her to spend Christmas with their grandparents; Grandpa would be smug and teasing but that was still better than being in Headquarters for Fran meeting Marvel Squad while Boss was out of the country.

He was definitely heading over to Florrie's new place for New Year; Lessi was Cloud Officer so Hawkeye –and therefore Marvel Squad– was her problem, not his.

* * *

Christmas had felt really strange to Xanxus this year. It wasn't loudly Varia-chaotic with seasonal pranks littered everywhere, but neither was it the stiff, pretentious and restrictive environment he was used to at Vongola 'family' Christmases, where there was a timetable and a dress code and everybody was required to be 'considerate' because 'it was Christmas.'

Xanxus had vaguely been expecting the latter, to be honest, because he'd thought that was what family Christmases were like. But instead there was _pain au chocolat_ for breakfast at Florrie's kitchen table while wearing pyjamas with a sock full of little gifts each –his contained a tangerine, a bar of novelty chocolate, a pack of cards and a tiger fridge magnet– and a trip to a nearby church for the Sunday morning service, which Florrie wore jeans and a garish Christmas jumper to and somehow persuaded him to do likewise.

It was a very low-key service and rather sparsely attended, mostly by much older people and a handful of other students, but the music was good, the pastor was friendly and a few people seemed to remember Florrie from previous visits, so Xanxus considered it a success. After that they picked up Citra and drove over to Florrie's parents' house, where Florrie was promptly roped into helping chop vegetables and Xanxus was plied with nuts and crisps at the kitchen table alongside said Filipina friend as the family hosting them chattered and laughed and eventually produced a lavish traditional British Christmas dinner with far too much food for two o'clock in the afternoon. Then there was Christmas pudding, after which everybody crashed in the sitting room for most of an hour to let the meal settle; Xanxus napped without meaning to, waking up with his head on Florrie's shoulder and feeling a touch disorientated when nobody commented beyond asking him if he'd like a drink.

Presents were then passed around gradually, with Alfie as master of ceremonies handing out gifts according to who they were from so nobody had more than one at a time and there was time to admire what other people are getting. It was restful; Xanxus knew he'd go back to a small mound of gifts at the Varia after New Year, so enjoyed himself watching his friend's reactions to all the various things she was given by her family. A few books, some notecards, a couple of CDs, several mixed packs of fabric for her patchwork projects, two tablecloths and a set of fabric napkins complete with napkin rings for her new kitchen, a ceramic candle house, a pack of wooden clothes pegs and quite a lot of chocolate made for a respectable haul. Xanxus got a book of bread recipes –clearly Florrie was telling tales to her parents but it did look interesting– a metal pot stand shaped like a fish skeleton, a calendar of English gardens and a mug with 'NO' written on it in big black letters, which he instantly resolved to use full-time in his office at the Varia. He also got a very old rosary in onyx and silver which Florrie's mother said she'd inherited from a great-aunt who'd been Catholic, but wanted him to have because that way it would get used.

It had been a long time since Xanxus had recited the rosary, but he recognised he didn't _have_ to in order to use it. There were other prayers and it was basically a meditation and contemplation tool, so it might come in handy for working through his issues. Either way it was an unexpectedly generous gift from somebody who only knew him as their daughter's friend and he resolved to get to know his Cloud's family a little better.

Florrie gave him a large jar of marmite –she'd got him hooked on the damn stuff and they didn't sell it outside Britain– a very high-quality technical drawing pen and a narrow silk tie with tiny stylised gold tigers prancing on it, plus a card that said inside that she'd got him copies of a few of her books that he'd been most interested in which were back at the flat. Xanxus very much appreciated her discretion there; he'd not have wanted to open those in front of an audience.

He'd bought his friend a few high-quality linen and silk shirts, a fancy digital camera and the very classy glass jug she'd been eyeing in the department store when they went to sort out her curtains. Watching her open them was fun; he'd got everybody else chocolate according to Florrie's list who liked what, plus silly Christmas socks. All of which went down surprisingly well, to the point that Chickie insisted that Xanxus _clearly_ liked her better than Florrie, because he hadn't bought Florrie fun Christmas socks. Which was probably a joke, but still; they'd been appreciated.

Then after presents there was Christmas cake and then it was time to take Citra back to halls and head home to the flat. Florrie's mother insisted they take a third of the cake with them and a good portion of the leftovers, which got loaded into the back of the van along with all the presents and then that was Christmas with Florrie's family over and done with.

"Is it always like that?" he asked once they were back at the flat and Florrie had put the food away in the fridge.

"Well who's invited varies a bit but yes, that's how we do Christmas," his friend told him, reaching around the back of the sofa and pulling out a trio of tissue-wrapped books. "Here, the last of your presents."

Xanxus kissed his Cloud, unwrapped his books –yes he had wanted copies of these ones and no he would _not_ have wanted anybody else to see him opening them– had once last cup of tea and then fell into bed. It _still_ didn't feel quite real yet; he'd never had such a low effort Christmas, ever. He hadn't realised it was _possible_ to have such a low-effort Christmas.

He wanted to do it again next year.

* * *

Getting up to Florrie's new place involved taking a civilian flight and exploiting somebody's last-minute cancellation, but Squalo arrived in England fairly early on the morning of Saturday the twenty-ninth, caught an airport bus to the general vicinity of the university then took advantage of all the Varia's safehouses being logged into their private phone network to make his way to the appropriate building. He could have just followed the feel of his Sky's Flames –Boss was not being particularly subtle about claiming the general area– but the map showed roads and pedestrian routes, so it was more straightforward than trying to make a direct line and having to negotiate buildings and walls with his go-bag and the extra bag full of Christmas presents for the Cloud that he'd been conned into bringing. Plus is was gloomy and windy and bloody _freezing_ so not at all the weather for climbing over things if it could possibly be avoided. It wasn't much of a map, but it covered the general vicinity, named some streets and a few landmarks –like the university– for reference so it was more than serviceable to getting somewhere when you knew the area, for all that it fell well short of what you'd need to find it from the airport.

He didn't actually mind playing courier for Florrie, but if he let people know that they'd try to take advantage and he didn't want the hassle. Carting around an extra bag in this sort of weather was hassle enough.

Walking along the pavement, Squalo felt the Wards brush against his Flames as he arrived in front of the right building; safehouse Wards were specifically keyed in to the Varia's active roster, so any, all and only current Varia could get inside. Of course civilians could get into the front garden and knock on the door, but anybody with malicious intent would get subtly redirected at the property line. The redirection would get less subtle with repeated attempts, eventually causing memory loss and a range of physical impairments. No-one really appreciated the prospect of a thief making a mess or wanted squatters making themselves at home either; not all the Varia's safehouses had full-time minders.

Squalo however was a Varia Officer and former Head, so he let the Wards direct him up the passageway between the garage and the side of the house and let himself in the side door, then walked through the main kitchen and across the hallway to the door of Florrie's flat. His fellow Guardian was now officially the caretaker of this particular safehouse, which meant she got a modest stipend for her time and all Varia-related expenses paid, including a portion of the gas, electricity and water bills, the cost of keeping the freezer, kitchen cupboards and cleaning materials stocked and access to a basic repairs account. She was also required to clean the 'accessible' parts of the building once a month –which was just the hallways and ground-floor rooms– and ensure the fire extinguishers and first aid kits were all in-date. Some things expired faster than others and as some of it would have to be ordered from the Varia directly –anti-venoms, general poison antidotes, scalpels– it was more practical to ship everything over directly rather than expect Florrie to step out and buy condoms if the kits ran out of them; this close to a university it would be easy for a few Varia to find enough one-night-stands or have short flings and run through what was stocked in less than a week.

Most of the Varia's occupied safehouses were run by either retired Varia or civilians with Varia connections, so Florrie blended in very nicely there. She'd still need a codename for the paperwork, but Squalo guessed Boss would sort one out when he filled it in and got her to sign it. It'd be a permanent Name for the records, even though her actual name would remain an open secret at the Varia due to her having met a decent number of assassins before picking up an alias.

Mammon had loaded him up with a paperwork transfer box along with everything else, so the Sky would have to get some work done despite being out of the building. Signing off the accounts for one; that needed doing before the New Year or else the Varia wouldn't get any money from the Vongola until February and that would throw all the pay schedules off-kilter.

Setting his go-bag and the bag of gifts on the tiled hallway floor, Squalo stood on the mat and rapped on the door with the knuckles of his prosthetic.

"Coming!" drifted through the soundproofing, muffled but still audible. Then the door opened and Florrie beamed at him, leaning in for a greeting kiss and hug which Squalo reciprocated. "Lovely to see you, Squalo; do come in."

Squalo did so, setting his bags down by the table and glancing around the room. It was very bright and warm-looking with the chimney painted orange and the walls a very light cream, with a range of prints and paintings and photos hung up all around. The kitchen area was separated from the sitting area by the dining table, but most of said sitting area was full of cat: Optima was sprawled on the fawn-coloured couch, Bester was taking up over half the floor and a tiny black cat was perched on the back of the armchair by the window. The smallest cat was distinctly Cloud-flavoured, so that was evidently Florrie's for all that Boss had clearly provided most of the Flames required to let the tiny feline out.

Boss meanwhile was standing in the kitchen, wearing a garish Christmas jumper with the sleeves rolled up above his elbows and an apron with a chicken printed on it, lightly powdered with flour and peering at a recipe handwritten on the back of an envelope propped up in front of him as he kneaded a ball of dough, a range of bowls and packets of ingredients scattered across the worktop on either side of him.

"Hey shark," Squalo's Sky said absently, not looking up.

"Hi Xanxus," Squalo replied; this wasn't work, so he wasn't going to call his Sky 'Boss.' "What're you baking?"

"Panettone," Florrie answered for him, her tone wry. "He called Housekeeping yesterday morning for a recipe, dug through all my cupboards, went around half-a-dozen shops looking for ingredients he was happy with and the right shaped tins and got started last night, then picked up again right after breakfast today." She seemed a touch bemused, but there was no irritation or offense at having her kitchen hijacked; Florrie's concept of Territory never stopped being interesting to Squalo, because he still hadn't managed to pin down how she defined it. Yes, she had boundaries, but he couldn't find a common thread beyond the obvious ones shared with people who weren't Clouds. A Cloud's Territory was generally defined as 'an additional set of boundaries beyond the norm,' so varied depending on what or who said Territory was. Violating those additional boundaries generally resulted in violence and/or death, depending on the Cloud, the level of infraction and how reasonable the Cloud in question was… and whether they were aware of their behaviour being unusual.

However baking something as complicated as panettone sounded suspiciously like the culinary equivalent of designing and building a new Box Weapon; had Christmas dredged up more unhappy memories that his Sky was working through? It seemed likely.

"Would you like tea, Squalo?" Florrie continued. "You can hang your coat on one of the hooks to the right of the door."

Ah right; hospitality. "Green tea please, voi," Squalo requested, taking off his coat. "Can I leave my bag under the hooks? I'll take it upstairs later."

"Sleep here, shark," Xanxus commented, moving the dough into a mixing bowl and walking over to the sink to wash his hands.

"Xanxus," the Cloud said sharply; whoops, boundary violation. Normal or not?

"Just sleeping, please Florrie?" the Sky requested, turning around to make eye-contact as he rubbed the soap over his hands into lather. Squalo turned his back on the brewing argument to hang up his coat, move his go-bag and then let his attention wander onto the photographs hanging on the other side of the front door; Xanxus was on his own in that discussion. Making a decision like that in her own home without consulting her, right in front of her? Anybody would be pissed.

"Xanxus, why?"

Was that a picture of pre-teen Bel eating ice cream? Where'd Florrie got _that_? Never mind the picture of Boss tripping over Luss's peacock; he'd not realised anybody had captured that moment on film. All those mile-long feathers were a trip hazard, especially when they were camouflaging the wires of the various other traps that littered the Varia; that damn bird had the same kind of passive-aggressive petty vindictiveness as Luss did.

"I… please?"

Hey, he'd paid Mammon a mint to hide all the photos of him blushing! What was one doing on Florrie's wall?! Wait, how had he worded that request? It'd been a while back but he was sure he'd manage to cover his bases properly, at least from the Varia.

"I just want to know where this is coming from, please, Xanxus."

Shit, he'd paid Mammon to 'keep all prints and negatives out of Varia hands and not give or show them to anybody who asked about them.' Florrie wasn't Varia and wouldn't have known the photo existed to ask for it, so Mammon had kept their side of the bargain to the letter and he'd _still_ got screwed over.

The sound of a tap being turned on, then off again. "I don't… I just…"

Well at least it wasn't just him who was screwed; there was a picture of Boss looking like a bomb had gone off in his face, Mammon struggling with a bowl of spaghetti and Lussuria pouting grumpily with his hair plastered flat against his scalp. Along with pictures of other people in variously embarrassing situations –was that girl screaming at a spider? Yes she was– and some rather better pictures, including a very nice one of Xanxus in that yukata.

"Hey, it's okay if you don't know why; I'm not angry. I just wanted to make sure you weren't messing with me a bit; you do like to tease sometimes. If it's just about having company then I don't mind; I do trust both of you. I just didn't understand where you were coming from."

"Just want to have you both with me."

"Well I'm sure that's doable, so long as Squalo agrees. You'll be in the middle though."

"Fine with that."

"And next time ask me first, please? I don't like being put on the spot and I especially don't like having people decide what I will be doing or not doing in my own home without even asking me beforehand whether I mind or not."

"Sorry."

"Forgiven; just think it through first next time, okay?"

"Promise."

"Then we just have to find out what Squalo thinks of it; he gets to choose too."

Squalo decided this would be a reasonably safe moment to rejoin the conversation and turned around. "Voi, I don't mind if you don't," he told his host, who was now leaning into Xanxus's side with an arm around his waist. "It's your house."

Xanxus was folded right over the Cloud with his hands tangled in a towel and hiding his face in her hair; Squalo wasn't sure what it was about this conversation that had prompted that reaction, but clearly there was a difficult emotional tangle underpinning their Sky's admittedly inappropriate invitation and Florrie confronting him on it had sent the man a bit to pieces.

"Then you may as well stick your bag in the bedroom; it's at the end of the hall," Florrie said, waving at the open door in the nearside corner of the kitchen. "You'll be on the side by the blue wall; there's a table by the head of the bed for your stuff, just move the vase of flowers onto one of the bookshelves."

"Will do," Squalo agreed, picking up his go-bag and making himself scarce; best to give the Sky a moment to pull himself back together enough to get back to his cooking. Maybe he should dawdle investigating Florrie's bookshelves for a few minutes? She'd just said she had some in her room, so why not.

* * *

When Squalo got back Xanxus was working the food mixer, staring intently at the dough with his Flames pulled in tight around him. Judging it best to leave the man alone for the time being, Squalo stepped carefully over the liger taking up half the floor and sat down on the big cushion near the coffee table, seeing as the sofa was covered in jaguar and Florrie was in the only armchair with a lap full of patchwork.

"Here, happy Christmas," he told her, setting the bag by her legs. "Bunch of people wanted to give you stuff so I agreed to bring it."

"Thank you Squalo," Florrie said with a bright smile, glancing over at Xanxus's back. "I'll open them later, once Xanxus has finished the current baking phase and is leaving the dough to rise again." She nodded at the coffee table. "Tea? I made a pot while you were getting yourself sorted."

Squalo removed the cat-shaped tea cosy and poured himself some into a cup; yes, it was green tea like he'd asked for. A cautious sip revealed it was just the right temperature and perfectly steeped; he felt his shoulders and back loosen as the scent of freshly-brewed loose-leaf tea filled his senses. "Thanks, voi," he murmured.

"You're very welcome. Want to put some music on? I've got a record player and you can plug a music player into the amplifier if you've got one."

The amp was in fact right behind him, as was the box of vinyl; Squalo turned around and looked through what was on offer. Mostly old stuff; probably her parents' collection that she'd appropriated or else extensively scavenged from second-hand shops, but most likely a mix of both. There was some nice music though; bunch of rock classics and some orchestral stuff as well. He ended up picking Rimsky-Korsakov, since there weren't any words there to accidentally aggravate whatever their Sky was wrestling with and Squalo knew for a fact that none of the Vongola had been into classical music, so there wouldn't be any other emotional connotations either.

The record placed on the player and the needle dropped lightly into place, Squalo fiddled with the volume until he was satisfied then skirted around the coffee table again to see what Florrie had on her living room bookshelves. There was bound to be something worth leafing through to pass the time, even if her taste in fiction didn't match his. Most of what there'd been in her bedroom had been fiction or textbooks.

There were in fact a bunch on interesting-looking art books; Squalo grabbed the one called 'Korea: Art and Archaeology' then went back to his cushion and tea. This was very relaxed and low-key, completely unlike anything he experienced on a regular basis, and the change was very welcome. Usually he only got space to think while practicing sword forms or travelling alone, which was not at all the same as sitting down with a drink and a book with classical music playing in the background and no chance at all of irritating Varia interruptions.

He'd have to sound out Florrie later to see if she was okay with listening to him unpack the Vindice thing, but right now he was enjoying the completely unhurried restfulness of quiet coexistence with his Sky and a fellow Guardian. If this was how his Sky's visits to Florrie's usually went then no wonder Xanxus had been visiting at every possible opportunity; Squalo kind of wanted to follow suit. Sure, he could settle down in his rooms at the Varia for a few hours but it wasn't possible to fully unwind like this; it was a hazard of living where you worked while being high up the chain of command and significantly more personable when woken up or interrupted than just about any other Officer. His reaction to an unexpected wake-up call or being interrupted while doing something else was just loud, not 'murder messily, with prejudice' or 'revenge, with added suffering,' or even 'poison on principle.'

He should definitely tag along on visits to Florrie more often.

* * *

About half an hour after Squalo had settled in to drink tea, Xanxus pulled the dough out of the mixer again, kneaded it briefly on the worktop, then set it back in the largest bowl and covered it with a tea towel. Then he did something with his Flames –presumably to give the dough a warmer temperature to rise at that ambient– washed his hands again and dumped his apron on the kitchen table, then put the kettle on.

Squalo divided his attention between reading about the Koryo period and watching Boss tidy up after himself, moving smoothly and quietly around the kitchen, putting away packets and moving bowls into the sink, then laying out another teapot and mug on a tray. Then the Sky wiped down the worktop and washed up the bowls, drying them with a tea towel just as the kettle started whistling.

The calm control and steadiness in his Flames was a vast improvement on earlier and spoke volumes for how much baking and cooking generally was helping the Sky to work through things and process. Shoving Boss into Housekeeping's kitchen wouldn't work at all when it was full of people busy keeping the Varia fed, but the farmstead had a decent kitchen and it had amusing similarities to the Sky locking himself into his workshop. The results of kitchen episodes might not last as long, but they were edible and consistently delicious besides.

His tea made and a cup poured, Xanxus removed the apron, stepped over Bester, shoved Optima up along the sofa and settled on the cushions with his drink, putting his feet up on the other end of the coffee table from the teapot Squalo and Florrie were sharing. "Let's see what my crazies got you then," the Sky rumbled, smirking at the Cloud over his mug.

Squalo had never, ever heard Xanxus refer to the Varia as 'my crazies' but that he'd said it so easily implied he'd been thinking it long enough for the idea to be comfortable and been saying it around Florrie often enough for the epithet to become habit. It was also kind of nice that Boss was just as possessive of them as they were of him, and Squalo was including himself there.

The Cloud glanced at them over the top of her patchwork and very deliberately continued stitching all the way to the end of her seam and knotting off the thread at the end before setting it aside and taking a mouthful of tea.

"Very well then; Squalo, do they have labels or do I need you to tell me who provided what?"

"Voi, at least _some_ of them have labels," Squalo conceded, "but I do know who gave me what if there's any confusion and everything's wrapped differently."

"Oh good." The Cloud got up, grabbed a notebook from the bookshelf and a pen from a tin perched in the front of one of the middle shelves, then sat down again. "I like to keep track of who I should be sending thank-you cards to."

Thank you cards? Well sending Florrie presents was going to get _very_ popular then; the Varia didn't get much personal mail and most of them didn't often get thanked either. Assassins generally weren't.

"Who checked them?" Xanxus asked quietly.

"Mammon," Squalo said promptly; the miser was rather protective of their former data-minion and fellow Guardian. "Got the accounts for you to sign off and some other urgent paperwork too, Boss," he added; "Mammon provided a Mist-box so it can all be transferred quickly."

The Sky grunted then turned his attention back to his Cloud Guardian, who had pulled out a wedge of Christmas cards from the bag.

A quarter of an hour and a change of record on the player later there were cards filling the space between Xanxus's boots and the teapot, Florrie had a list of Names jotted down 'for next year' –sending her Christmas cards was definitely going to get very popular as well– and had finally pulled out a fairly large gift to unwrap.

"That one's from Luss," Squalo said superfluously, since the Sun had written his name on it.

"I've got some Christmas presents I was going to ask Xanxus to take back, including one for you," the Cloud replied, tugging the paper out from under the tape, "I should go and get yours so you can open it now; I should have done that earlier, really."

"Open yours first," Xanxus said firmly.

"Yeah, I want to see what they've given you," Squalo agreed; Mammon checking meant everything was both civilian-appropriate and things Boss wouldn't kill anybody over, but that still left quite a lot of scope for Varia shenanigans. The Rain poured himself another cup of tea –the last one in the pot– and settled back to watch.

* * *

Twenty minutes later what little remaining free space there had been on the coffee table was covered in gifts: a fancy leather motorcycle jacket and gloves from Luss, a pack of Varia blackmail photos from Mammon –which explained all too well why Florrie had some on her wall; the miser had a near-infinite supply of free gifts there– some history and cultural books on Germany –in German– from Bel, which unintentionally matched Squalo's gift of German fiction and a proper dictionary since Florrie's German was rather rudimentary, a silk scarf and a brick's-worth of regular supermarket dark chocolate bars from Lessi –British chocolate couldn't hold a candle to Italian chocolate– a few DVDs of pirated Japanese anime from Dark Horse, a pair of knitted wrist-warmers from Maínomai, an intricately pattered pair of mittens in purple and cream from Pýř, a five-litre can of olive oil and a good-sized box of whole candied fruit from Housekeeping –proof the bag had been extensively Altered to be larger on the inside and not seem particularly heavy– a bottle of _mandarinetto_ from Zima and six different bags of Christmas sweets and biscuits from a range of other Squads, including about a kilo of almond _confetti_ from Lightning Division generally.

Squalo had not realised the bag had quite that much in; it was also pretty clear that the Varia rank and file had adopted their Sky's Cloud Guardian as an extra not-quite-Officer and were acting accordingly. He got up to put the kettle on again as Florrie coaxed interpretation of the variously scribbled signatures on the gift labels out of Xanxus –you never realised how bad people's handwriting could get until you had to decipher it– and opened the carefully sealed paper packet of _mustazzoli_ , popping one in her mouth and offering the Sky the bag.

Xanxus took several of course, so Squalo opened a few cupboards and drawers until he found some little plates and set them on the coffee table before heading back to the kettle and putting fresh tea in the pot. Green tea needed water at a specific temperature, but while he was generally rather crap at Mist-tricks despite having it as his secondary Flame, he did know how to use it as a thermometer.

"I've got presents for your other Guardians and Sumu but I didn't think of anything for Maínomai," Florrie fretted once Squalo had made the tea and settled back on his cushion, stealing a few of the chocolate-covered biscuits on his way past. "Or for anybody else, come to that; I'm fairly okay with just sending thank you cards to the Squads who gave me sweets and to Housekeeping, but I should probably make a cake or something for Dark Horse and something for Pýř and Zima too."

Zima had lost a foot on a mission gone wrong in September and while her ankle was now healed enough to be fitted for a prosthetic, her fighting style had been acrobatic and she wasn't managing to adapt to the increased weight and reduced flexibility of the false foot. However being practical and intelligent, Zima was using her enforced downtime to retrain for Information, which would let her stay at the Varia despite the inevitability of retirement from fieldwork the moment her medical leave was up. Squalo had known there was _somebody_ in his Division who distilled liqueurs as a hobby –Rain Division had an interesting range of hand-labelled bottles of alcohol that got brought out on various occasions– but he hadn't realised it was Zima; maybe now she was retired from taking missions she'd turn that into a side business.

"Biscuits maybe?" Squalo suggested. "I've got a Mist-box for transferring paperwork and you could probably fit a batch of biscuits in it." That way they'd arrive fresh.

"Would cause a riot," Boss drawled; "better to Mist-trick a tin for stasis and take them back the normal way."

Oh right, yeah, it was the Varia; that _would_ happen and then the miser would be pissed at him for instigating it. Or possibly auction off the biscuits individually, which would be rude but plausibly in-character as it would at least pay for the damages, or should; it depended on how ridiculous things got.

Oh, and something else: "Zima's dairy intolerant."

"Thanks for reminding me Squalo; I'll buy some block margarine to bake with. Gingerbread men, I think; they're traditionally Christmassy." She tapped her lips with a fingertip. "Possibly parkin for Dark Horse? That would mean buying lard though; tea bread perhaps?"

"What's parkin?" Xanxus asked curiously.

Florrie blinked at him. "You've never –of course you wouldn't have, it's a bonfire night thing; well it was for me anyway and Italians don't commemorate Guy Fawkes. I'll make parkin tomorrow once you're done with the kitchen; that'll give me time to check my recipe books and possibly call home if it turns out this is one if the things from Mum's hand-written book of recipes."

"What's tea bread?" Squalo asked.

"It's a sweet fruit loaf where the dried fruit has been soaked in tea beforehand," Florrie said easily. "Grandma always served tea bread when I visited her as a child; it's served sliced with butter on and traditionally eaten with tea, for afternoon tea."

"Make both?" Xanxus suggested hopefully. "Double batches, so we can try them and still have one each for Dark Horse and Pýř and Maínomai."

The Cloud eyed them both over her tea and biscuits. "Parkin's basically made of oatmeal, ginger and black treacle," she said mildly, "and I don't see why I should make tea bread when you're already making panettone."

The Sky pouted at her. "Get the recipe and I'll make it then."

Florrie sighed, lips twitching into a fond smile. "Fine then; at least tea bread keeps well. If we're making both though I'd rather visit home to borrow Mum's loaf tins and a square tin for the parkin; I've only got a big loaf tin for regular bread and I'm pretty sure the parkin's in her hand-written recipe book anyway. I'll photograph the pages with my new camera and you can have a look through her recipe stash to see what else you fancy trying while we're at it."

Squalo wasn't sure he was ready to meet his fellow Guardian's family, but Xanxus had already –more than once by now– and didn't seem at all bothered by the suggestion, which implied that they weren't that hard to get along with. That along with what his Sky had already told him about Florrie's family suggested the introduction would go well, which was all he could hope for really. The talk about visiting family reminded him of something though:

"Voi, Xanxus, you can come along to the Superbi Family Reunion this year if you like; starts April twenty-seventh this year. Pantera got ambushed at Christmas by a dozen or so of your cousins –your great-grandma's grandkids and their kids– so it's pretty much an open secret that there's a close cousin to the main family who's half Cavallone that's been welcomed back into the fold. You don't have to stay for long but at least stop by a few days running? Pantera wants to introduce you before people get it into their heads to start introducing themselves."

"Will consider it, shark," Xanxus agreed quietly.

Good, that was something. "Florrie, you can come too; Guardians count as close family for Skies."

"That's right before summer exam season, Squalo; I'll have deadlines and revision."

Oh yes, that was a thing when you were in university full time, wasn't it? You couldn't just take one or two exams a year. "Invitation stands, voi; you won't be in university forever." And that had sounded a lot less threatening in his head.

"I'll bear that in mind," the Cloud said dryly, "and I'm sure you'll remind me again a few years down the line."

Well yeah, obviously. Xanxus was a Superbi Sky so as his Guardian Florrie was family too, which meant she should get to meet the rest of his relatives. "Don't _have_ to come to the reunion if you can't hack the crowding," Squalo added scrupulously, "but visiting just before or just after is good too; people generally stick around for a fortnight around the week and do more private stuff with closer relatives and friends before and after."

Both Florrie and Xanxus felt a bit less against that idea; Squalo could recognise that getting ambushed by his entire extended family would be a bit much for anybody no matter how social and neither his Sky nor his fellow Guardian were particularly extroverted. He'd suggest the private dinner thing to his cousin and see if the cat could swing a few smaller family meals with Xanxus's newly-discovered closer relatives, to ease into things and ensure his Sky actually knew people by the time the Reunion came round.

That could work better, as that way the closer cousins could provide camouflage and introduce Xanxus to more distant relatives he might actually get along with; Squalo would be there too of course, but he actually _did_ know everybody and the more people running interference the less likely his Sky was to get swamped.

Come to think of it, Luss would be a good person to take; he was very social and also very distracting, but their Sky would trust his Sun to help him learn about his horde of new relatives.

He'd suggest it later. Right now there were biscuits to eat and casual conversation to be had.

* * *

Squalo ended up getting private conversation time with Florrie the following morning; the Cloud's mother was fine with them borrowing her handwritten and out-of-print recipe books for a few days, so Xanxus had swiped the entire shelf's-worth and then camped out in the basement back at the safehouse with Florrie's new digital camera set up on a stand, meticulously photographing every page and running them through the script-recognition software on his laptop.

Seeing as their Sky was happily engrossed and would be for a few hours longer at the very least –and that the basement workshop was shielded against Flames– Squalo seized the moment:

"Voi, did Xanxus ever tell you how he got that scar right around his arm?"

"Not in detail," Florrie said, glancing at him from the teapot she was preparing as the kettle got up to temperature. "He worded as having let somebody goad him into stupidity, with predictable results."

Of course his Sky would blame himself. "Voi, Dino deliberately prodded one of Boss's legitimate sore spots to get him to play bait," Squalo said sourly, "so I went along too, because like hell I wasn't going to back him up. I got impaled through the chest; missed my spine by centimetres and my heart was shredded. Mammon got to me in seconds and used Mist Flames as a temporary patch, but I needed a lot of bone and lung reconstruction and a full heart transplant."

The Cloud stared at him, a frisson of horror swirling under the surface. "Well, that _does_ explain the bitterness," she murmured eventually. "He's… less concerned with his own health than is entirely ideal."

Point.

"Dino's sort of my friend," Squalo continued, perching on the edge of the dining table and looking down at his hands. "I mean, we went to school together as kids before I joined the Varia and he kept in touch afterwards. But he was fully in Chew Toy's corner back then –isn't so much now– and he deliberately insulted Boss with a reminder of how Nono humiliated him to get him to agree to Chew Toy's shitty pointless plan." Talbot showing up had made the entire fight moot, proving it had been nothing more than a distraction. The entire confrontation had been pointless when waiting less than _fifteen minutes_ would have prevented his near-death, Xanxus's near-crippling injuries and even kept that lunatic Byakuran from getting an arm through his guts! And Orchid-boy had gotten off _easy_ , just needing a spot of reconstructive surgery on his small intestines! Stalling the Vindice could have been as simple as requesting some time and making it clear that they'd surrender once that time was up, which would _still_ have drawn out Checkerface as the Vindice would have 'won.'

Florrie gently nudged his shoulder with hers, but didn't say anything.

"Nobody else got as badly injured as we did," Squalo went on quietly. "Boss's arm got ripped right off and if the slash across his legs had been even a centimetre lower he'd have lost both kneecaps. I'd have been dead in short order if Mammon hadn't been hovering in the wings waiting for the inevitable disaster; as it was I spent six weeks in bed with foreign Flames in my chest, completely dependent on Mammon for every single second and every single breath. Then when I finally _got_ the heart transplant and I was stuck in bed for another six weeks recovering, I had a read of the available medical literature on heart transplants and found out there was no guarantee I'd live more than another decade, that I'd be taking immunosuppressants for all of that and it would probably be the drugs killing me."

Florrie reached out and wrapped her hand around his; Squalo gripped her fingers tightly and took a few careful breaths.

"Sumu, Mammon and Luss between them worked out a way to use Flames for gene therapy about six months later," he managed, "to fully convert the DNA of the transplanted heart to match mine. It took about a week, followed by a fortnight under observation to make sure I wasn't having an immune response now I was off the drugs. I'd been under a death sentence and suddenly I was free again; I couldn't quite believe it."

The Mist-trick on the kettle pinged, letting them know it was up to temperature, so Florrie turned off the gas, poured the hot water into the teapot and moved the tea and associated bits and pieces over to the coffee table; Squalo joined her on the sofa, sitting close but not quite touching and staring at the ridiculous cat-shaped cosy over the pot.

"Bel's favourite restaurant is in Chew Toy's home town," Squalo picked up again, the words coming more quickly now, "so we went there for his birthday. I ended up walking into the park I nearly died in. I hate that town; got more scars from that square mile than any other country on the planet. Watched Boss get gaslighted and re-traumatised by Don Vongola and that pathetic blind piece of shit he picked to inherit; got a bunch of fake memories of losing more of my arm stalling for those same trash brats shoved in my brain barely a month later. Then had my heart shredded in a Stupid pointless fight that was a fucking _Stupid_ plan right from the outset but everybody went along with because it was Chew Toy's plan and the trash didn't even think to _mention_ that it was only about buying time in the first place."

Florrie shifted closer so she could wrap an arm around his back, her head resting against his shoulder.

"Trash doesn't care," Squalo whispered past the lump in his throat. "We're Vongola and we're the only ones who almost got killed by his pathetic pointless plan; we're his _Family_ and _required_ to obey him _because_ he's the Heir, but he doesn't care. We were just means to an end for him, cannon fodder to throw against a near-invincible enemy so his precious _friends_ wouldn't have to lift a finger. I fucking _hate_ him."

Florrie twisted around a little so she could put her free hand over his clenched right fist and rub her thumb gently across the heel of his palm.

"I swore myself to Xanxus because he _burns_ , he's all passion and fire and he cares too much to _ever_ demand something of somebody that he's not fully willing to do himself," Squalo went on, blinking sharply against the dampness welling up in his eyes and keeping his Flames pulled in as tight as possible, "I knew he'd make a _fantastic_ Head of the Family because he cared that much. I wanted him to lead and I wanted to follow, because a protective leader is a _delight_ to serve, even though I knew damn well even then I could easily die fighting for him; it would have been _worth_ it. Except now we're stuck with the cowardly trash who doesn't give a shit, the ignorant self-centred social climber who's insinuated himself into the trusted advisor position and the rest of his dysfunctional brat pack, only two of whom have shown even the slightest interest in finding out what Chew Toy's inheritance actually _is_. And Boss is going to swear himself to serve _that_ , because he's loyal and loves his Family and wants to protect what people he can, and it–"

He couldn't say it; Squalo turned his head to rest against Florrie's shoulder and wept silently, both hands fisted in her loose-fitting woollen jumper as she hugged him.

"I would follow Xanxus into Hell," he managed to choke out, "but that does not mean I want to _watch_ my Sky destroy himself over something he's not _allowed_ to fix."

Florrie didn't say anything but her arms around him tightened as her Latent Flames flared subtly; in the face of that instinctive and unconditional support Squalo let himself break down completely.


	5. Chapter 5

**Pick up the pieces (and move on)**

Just because Xanxus was currently wrestling with a bunch of newly-surfaced painful memories from when he'd been doing everything he could to be a good son to the old fart –none of which had ever been good _enough–_ didn't mean he hadn't noticed that the shark was wound pretty tight. Or had _been_ wound pretty tight; by the time Xanxus had finished copying out Florrie's mother's recipe books on Sunday afternoon his Rain Guardian felt like the aftermath of a long spar or a good fuck, tired but properly settled in his skin again.

Seeing as Squalo clearly had not been sparring or having sex and also had a touch of that empty feeling Florrie got after a long cry, Xanxus suspected the Rain had decided to take advantage of his fellow Guardian being a good listener. He kind of wanted to ask what it had been about, but also recognised that Florrie would bite his head off for prying; after all, she didn't talk about _him_ with other people so why would she talk about them with him?

It sat uncomfortably though. Yes, he knew Florrie wouldn't have gone along with it unless she'd wanted to, but… But. Even though it was the shark, his first Guardian and basically his Right Hand, Xanxus felt… Florrie was _his_ friend.

It was dumb. He _knew_ it was dumb, even, but that didn't make the feeling go away. He was jealous that the shark had a private conversation with _his_ friend, even though it had only happened because Xanxus had already been off doing something by himself in the first place.

Squalo excused himself after dinner to run through a few sword forms in the basement training room, so Xanxus did the washing up and tried to wrestle his emotions into something resembling order.

He wasn't really succeeding.

"What's eating you?"

Case in point; if Florrie could read him he was _well_ off his game. Yes she was his Guardian which gave her an advantage, but she was Latent and wasn't the most emotionally perceptive person on the planet to begin with. In fact she was markedly below average there. It was why she made a point of asking him how he was feeling rather than assuming she knew.

"What gave me away?" He muttered, setting another plate in the drainer.

"I don't know exactly, but you've been gnawing on something since Boxing Day and suddenly got grumpy this afternoon after working through the recipe books," his friend told him calmly. "I thought maybe the software hadn't worked, but then you told us over dinner about how well it went after the first dozen scans so I knew it couldn't be that."

Okay, so the Guardian bond _did_ give her deeper insight into his emotions; she just couldn't break down the awareness into its component parts.

"Bed?" he asked. It was nice flopping across the massive mattress with his arms wrapped around her and a lot easier to talk about emotional shit if he didn't have to sit upright or make eye contact.

"I'll dry up then, so as to make the washing up go faster."

* * *

A quarter of an hour later they were sprawled on the bed, Florrie's desk lamp providing a low-level sunset glow that Xanxus found more comfortable a backdrop to intimate conversation than the main overhead light.

"You had a talk with the shark."

"I listened to Squalo," his friend corrected mildly. That wording had various implications, one of which was a subtle warning not to pry into the subject matter.

"Why talk to you?" Xanxus knew he was whining and it did nothing for his mood.

"Why not me?"

"Florrie."

She sighed. "Xanxus, I'm probably the only person he trusts who knows you yet doesn't work for you."

That was entirely accurate and reasonable, which did not help. "So he was talking about me."

His friend sat up and glared down at him. _"No,_ Xanxus, he was talking about _him_. It just so happens that he is your Rain Guardian and cares for you _deeply_ , so you are included in what matters to him."

And now he felt like an asshole. "Sorry," he mumbled.

"Forgiven. So what's actually bothering you, Xan?"

"You're _my_ friend," he grumbled, knowing he was being silly and hating it.

Florrie's face did a funny twitch and she leaned over him, resting her forearms on his upper chest and kissing him on the nose. "Yes, I am. I'm always going to be your friend, but I can still have other friends, Xanxus. So can you; love is not a finite resource. Rather the opposite in fact: the more people you love and are loved by, the easier it is to love more deeply and more people." She nuzzled his cheek, ghosting more kisses across his skin.

"I know I'm being Dumb," he growled, although it was hard to sustain the annoyance in the face of the sheer joy his Cloud took in lavishing him with affection. "I don't _want_ to be Dumb about it; I just…"

"Feel jealous," Florrie supplemented wryly, her lips brushing his ear. "Feel like somebody's taking me away from you. Don't want to share me. Feel like it isn't _fair_ that I'm keeping other people's secrets as well as yours, or that those other people might be keeping _my_ secrets from _you."_

Yes. That. How did she?

"That's completely normal, Xanxus; most people go through this phase with their best friends before they're in double digits. It's a normal part of adjusting to socialising with people who like you yet don't have you as their overriding priority. This is why most people have multiple friends; expecting just one person to be your full-time emotional support is unfair, even if that person is your spouse. Normal people talk about different things with different friends, to spread the load." She pulled back enough that he could see as well as hear her smiling at him. "You're not my only friend, you know; I'm glad you trust me enough to talk to me about personal things, but if you meet somebody else you click with I'd want you to be their friend too. You deserve to have lots of people supporting you."

Xanxus knew she had other friends; he'd just never _seen_ her with those other friends. Or even heard her talk about them much; compartmentalisation, clearly. "Tell me about your friends," he managed, reaching up to tug on her braid.

Florrie's smile widened as she chuckled softly. "I met Becca and Bambi in sixth form," she said.

"Bambi?" Was that a nickname or had some parent actually _named_ their poor kid that?

"Yes, that's actually her name; they'd been best friends all through secondary school and when I met them they just welcomed me and included me because apparently they thought I was awesome." His friend looked baffled just remembering it, but in a happy way. "We talked about school stuff and what we wanted to do after finishing sixth form and who we fancied or were dating. Becca talked boys with me and demanded my opinion on various male celebrities and Bambi did the same over girls, because unlike Becca I was actually willing to admit that other girls were pretty. They coaxed my own teenage crush out of me and commiserated without pushing me to confess or do anything about it, because the guy in question was somebody they knew who was a sweetheart and already had a girlfriend and I didn't want to do anything about it. Just seeing him around the school was warm and confusing enough."

The closest Xanxus had ever come to talking about romance and crushes with Florrie was when she'd introduced him to 'fuck, marry, kill' as an evaluation method and he'd adapted it to 'fuck, ally with, kill' in order to rate various prominent Alliance people, as a means of explaining to her how much –or how little– he trusted them compared to each-other and in what areas. He'd then made her reciprocate –although in her case it had been 'date, marry kill' because she wasn't really into sex– with the limited range of people she knew that he also knew and had fun teasing her with the results.

Not that he was ever going to tell anybody what her answers had been, as that would open him to reprisals and he didn't want _anybody_ to know he'd rated Alliance and Allied Dons based on fuckability and still used that scale in his head. Finding out horse was actually his half-brother had made it ever so slightly awkward. About as awkward as being related to Don and Heir Superbi, since they were shark's relatives as well as his even if horse was much more closely related. There were fewer pre-existing emotional entanglements involved with Dino Cavallone though, despite the ongoing unresolved sore point of the blonde having precipitated the Vindice confrontation.

"So girl talk with girl friends," he summarised.

"Yes, but more than that; we talked about moving away for university or even just for work, which led into discussing domestic chores around the house and how living alone would mean doing all of them. Then Bambi started doing her own laundry and complaining about how it needed to be done every single week and how awkward it was when it rained, because everything took so much longer to dry hanging inside, but was still really upbeat and happy about it because her mother started giving her more freedom and a later curfew because she was being more responsible. That prompted me to get interested in cooking and I got my mother to teach me to bake bread, and then I took over half the week's meals because cooking was fun and there's nothing like seeing people enjoy a meal you made. Becca discovered she got a real sense of satisfaction from cleaning the bathroom and we all got more consistent about tidying our rooms, because order makes maintenance easier."

So having friends had helped her grow and mature, because they were doing things together and supporting each-other.

"We'd joke that the three of us made one functional housewife between us," Florrie mused, "which was what led to Becca saying that her Italian grandpa's friend had a farm up in the mountains in Sicily but didn't live there anymore because he wasn't mobile enough, but that if she got him to ask, his friend probably wouldn't mind us staying there for free for a gap year if we did it up a bit. But then Becca's boyfriend proposed to her a month before we were planning on leaving and Bambi got diagnosed with leukaemia at the last minute, so it was just me." She smiled at him. "And I met you."

Xanxus pulled her down for more kisses.

* * *

"Have any older friends?" He asked curiously a little later; she was his first actual friend –shark was more of a friend now but he'd started out as just a Guardian and subordinate– and while he'd not actually thought about making other friends, he did like the idea. Just a little bit. Should he find a few more trustworthy people. Probably and preferably some that didn't work for him –workplace friends when you were Boss was a tricky balance– and were capable of defending themselves if need be.

"My best friend through primary school probably wasn't a very good friend, but I knew her from nursery and she was my best friend because I didn't tease her and the other girls in our class did," Florrie said quietly. "Then my dad moved us abroad and I was struggling with the language and the culture shock, so I got closer to my siblings and made a few passing friends, but no proper friends until I started high school and a really vivacious girl in my class decided I was a good friend to have. Possibly because I understood maths and English and she didn't, but it was a starting point and she was kind and talkative and never flinched from telling me if she thought I was being silly, so I ended up doing quite a bit with her. She had other friends outside school that I only met once or twice, but I didn't mind because what she did with them were things I didn't want to do anyway. She was gloriously normal and very grounding and I love her dearly. Being her friend enabled me to make more friends in class, because I was more confident, and I ended up with another good friend in a similar kind of family situation to me that I could talk about clashing with my parents with. Then of course we moved back to England and while I've visited since and exchange Christmas cards and they're still my friends, it's less immediate."

"Your primary school friend?" Xanxus prodded.

"I wrote to her for a few years, but then she stopped replying," Florrie replied softly. "Probably because her parents got divorced and her parents both remarried to other divorcees with kids in that time, so she had her own issues and my not being there meant we drifted apart, but I don't really miss her anymore. I've made better friends since and I know myself better now. If we'd met now for the first time we probably wouldn't be friends."

In retrospect, Xanxus could recognise he'd probably have been better off attending the Academy and meeting other kids his age. However he hadn't wanted to at the time –aged six, barely half a year into his sojourn at the Iron Fort– and the old fart had gone with it and never brought it up again. Probably because it was what he'd wanted all along: it gave the asshole more power over Xanxus's life. In fact he'd probably only asked Xanxus at _all_ to ensure that if he later realised how much he'd missed out on by _not_ attending school the old fucker could say 'but you didn't want to,' like that meant anything. Not wanting to go to school was _normal_ ; he'd picked up that much. But parents made their kids do it anyway because it meant being around other kids in a structured and reasonably safe environment and that was good for mental and emotional development. Well, there was education supposedly happening too but it was the social connections that really _mattered_ , especially in a mafia school.

But he hadn't gone and didn't have peers, so here he was at eighteen with his first friend and struggling with the associated jealousy a decade later than everybody else did it. But if it was something everybody did, well… he'd just have to get over himself, wouldn't he? Yes, Florrie _was_ his Cloud Guardian, but that didn't mean he owned her. She was her own damn person.

"I'll get over myself," he promised, kissing her again.

"I'm sure you will," his friend agreed comfortably, reaching up to play with his hair. "Anything else you'd like to talk about while we're here?"

Well he didn't exactly _want_ to but he knew that talking would probably help. "What was Christmas like for you as a kid?"

Florrie hummed thoughtfully. "Not too different from how it is now, in all honesty. It started with helping decorate the house in mid-December –which we did here with some decorations from home Mum gave me as well as some things I bought in Sicily and a few new things as well– and doing Christmassy cooking like mince pies –which we also did– and then going to bed on Christmas Eve and being unable to sleep due to being too excited. Then waking up to stockings on Christmas Day; except they were pillow cases, not stockings, because you can't fit much in a sock." His friend smiled, her eyes distant. "I found out later that our childhood stockings were carefully calibrated to provide entertainment and ensure we didn't wake our parents early to demand breakfast: there was always a range of toys and books and some reasonably healthy snacks, plus a bit of milk chocolate. One year I actually woke up at four in the morning, opened everything in my stocking under my covers with a torch so as not to disturb Chickie, ate half the snacks then went back to sleep until eight."

That was completely adorable. Xanxus could picture it easily.

"Then in the morning there was breakfast and a trip to church, followed by being allowed to open _one_ present to play with while lunch was being prepared. My parents would pick which present; I suspect they bought things specially with that in mind, as it was frequently a Lego set or some such age-appropriate equivalent for each of us. Then there was lunch –generally with additional guests– and tidying up, followed by moving to the sitting room and opening the rest of presents. When I was little I was allowed to open all mine at once then play with them while the adults were handing around theirs, then I got old enough to want to be involved in the handing-out. Then Chickie and Alfie wanted to hand out, so I had to be gracious and take turns." She made a face. "Then I turned into a teenager and stopped waking up early at all, was happy to read a book from my stocking while lunch was happening, no extra presents required, and was equally happy to watch my younger siblings zoom around rather than join in. I did start getting roped into helping out with the meal and organising then too though."

"Then after?"

"Enjoy the presents for the rest of the day, eat an evening meal if hungry –or just snack on cake and nuts if not– retreat to my room with my haul and go to bed," Florrie said, rolling off him. "Then help take down all the Christmas decorations on the day after Boxing Day, so that Chickie could enjoy her birthday on the twenty-eighth without feeling overshadowed by Christmas."

Yeah, Xanxus could see how that had grown into what he'd experienced for himself at her parents' house; a Christmas routine precisely calibrated to be child-friendly while involving minimal adult effort, shifting as the children grew into something purely teen-and-adult friendly. "Did you ever dress up for church?"

"When I was little, yes; I wanted to wear my best clothes for Christmas then, and on one occasion wore a sparkly fairy dress around the house afterwards. As I got older I stopped wanting to, so generally went with a smart shirt, jumper and earrings along with nice jeans or occasionally a skirt to show willing."

"Parents never commented?"

Florrie eyed him sideways from where she was now flopped beside him. "I did have to dress up for festive visits to the grandparents, or if the grandparents came around to visit, but dressing up and best manners for Grandma was normal. Nobody ever tried to make me sit still or act less childishly though, except at the dinner table because table manners are important even for children."

So Florrie had run around and flopped on the floor in her best clothes and been allowed to get away with it; Xanxus shifted onto his side and pulled his friend into his arms. "Remember one Christmas with Ma," he murmured; "she bought marzipan fruit and got me new shoes. Well, new to me; they were boots and a bit big, but that meant I could grow into them."

"That sounds like a happy memory," his friend said softly.

"Mm." It was. Both the boots and the marzipan had been a surprise and he'd been so happy to have new shoes that didn't rub. He'd insisted she take a share the marzipan and she had; he'd eaten most of it though. It had been in addition to the regular meal, not instead of, and the sheer joy of having sweets _as well_ had etched itself in his memory.

Iron Fort Christmases, on the other hand… memorable for rather different reasons. Reasons he didn't want to start listing, because he'd be here all night and upset Florrie.

"The old fart never modified anything to make it more kid-friendly," Xanxus said instead, kissing his Cloud's hair. "I was expected to adapt, because I was 'his son' and there were _standards_."

"My dad says parenting is a transformative experience because you have responsibility but no control," Florrie said, making Xanxus blink at the tangent. "Because you can't control a child; the child is their own person doing their own thing and all you can do is try to keep up, make convincing arguments against known perils and child-proof their surroundings otherwise."

Ah, not a tangent at all then. The old fart had tried to control him –to mould him into something he wasn't– and his friend was confirming that doing so was _not_ parent behaviour. Good parents didn't try to control their children.

The old fart had been a shitty parent; probably had been to his own blood as well. How could Grandma have raised a son so completely terrible at parenting when Xanxus was damn sure she'd been a brilliant mother? She'd certainly been more of a role model to him than the old fart. Something for another day; a day he was feeling less bruised by his emotions being out of whack and bad memories surfacing.

"Old fart was always trying to control me," he muttered.

Florrie pressed her lips together. "Think you can forgive him for it?"

Xanxus eyed her warily. Yes, he'd already had the talk on how 'forgiveness is about freeing yourself from the other person, _not_ about trusting them not to trespass again' and how apologies were as much about recognising you'd fucked up and resolving to do better as they were about making sure the other person knew you weren't going to do it again so they could decide whether or not to trust you enough to rebuild bridges –provided they even _wanted_ to– but that didn't make it _easy_. "Letting go is hard," he ventured after a pause. The old fart didn't _deserve_ to be let off the hook.

His friend chewed on her lower lip. "When I'm not feeling particularly forgiving and don't really _want_ what wrong was done to me to get smoothed over, as it were, I do two things. Firstly, I pray for divine assistance in the forgiving process and two, I explicitly give the person and wrong they did me over to God, so that arranging just recompense becomes His problem," she admitted. "Forgiveness is as much about recognising that you are _owed_ something and are choosing not to collect as it is about freeing yourself from that person's influence. However you can just as easily choose not to collect by handing the debt on to somebody more qualified to do so, in exchange for peace of mind."

"God forgives too though," Xanxus grumbled.

Florrie's answering smile was thin and not at all nice. "True, but for God to forgive us we have to recognise our sins and repent, as well as forgive others," she pointed out lightly. "How likely is that shit to recognise that he wronged you and repent of it?"

Oooh, good point. "This also why you keep going back to 'judge not, lest you be judged'?" Xanxus clarified.

"Yes; I am acutely aware of _not_ wanting to be judged for my various sins," his friend admitted candidly, "so I can't afford to judge others for theirs, even though I constantly catch myself doing so and have to repent."

The old fart was judgemental trash; suddenly forgiveness was more palatable. "I'll work on it," Xanxus promised. The implicit promise that the old fart would get his, even if it wasn't the Varia Boss doing the inflicting, was rather satisfying. Especially since God had infinitely greater resources for appropriate retribution than he did.

"Besides," his friend said quietly, "wouldn't you like to one day look at that shit and not feel anything at all? Just not _care_? Indifference is the opposite pole to both love and hate, because you can't hate somebody unless you care deeply about what they think and do."

Ouch. But yes, that was a goal he could get behind. To be able to _stop caring_ about the manipulative senile fucker who'd trashed his life would be… Xanxus couldn't picture it, but it sounded restful.

"One of my favourite God qualities is that he is the God of perfect timing," Florrie said lightly, watching his face intently.

Xanxus pondered perfectly timed divine comeuppance descending on the old fart; it was a very nice mental image. "Thank you," he told her seriously, ducking down for another kiss.

"You're very welcome, Xanxus. Now do we move back to the living room for a bit, or do we just get into pyjamas and have an early night?"

"Tea, I think," Xanxus decided. "Then bed." He could start working on his forgiving over a hot drink.

"Lead on then."

* * *

Xanxus was much more settled on New Year's Eve, which unfortunately for Squalo also meant he was more inclined to tease. Florrie was largely spared due to spending half the day cooking, but Squalo wound up losing his cool entirely and throwing himself at his Sky in an attempt to strangle the asshole unconscious. Which he unfortunately did not succeed in doing, although that was partly due to Florrie's probably-justified response to two grown men rolling around on her living room floor: she threw a jug of water over them.

Xanxus had not expected it any more than Squalo had, which was something at least; her flat order to 'take it downstairs or outside' had reminded both of them that this wasn't the Varia and was in fact her home, so her Rules stood. They hadn't done either in the end; instead they'd dried off, mopped up the wet patch on the floor and pulled one of the board games off Florrie's bookcase and played Scrabble on the dining table. In just English, which was harder than it sounded when you were used to thinking in eight or more different languages. Used to having all kinds of scrabble sets mixed together too; Squalo kept expecting to get certain letters that didn't exist in the English alphabet or for the point values to be more varied.

Florrie had won the first game, Squalo the second, Florrie the third –her luck with letters was blatantly unfair– and Xanxus the last; after that the Cloud had decided the parkin was cool enough to eat and served it out. It was, as promised, very sweet, although the black treacle gave the flavour a pleasant depth which the spiciness of the ginger added to and was made more interesting by the texture of the oats.

The buttered tea bread was also excellent; Squalo was hoping that his Sky had kept a copy of that recipe to make more himself later.

* * *

Xanxus didn't particularly _want_ to go back to the Varia before Epiphany, but he'd arranged a meeting with the horse for January fifth to talk about more family things, so back he would be going. He'd had a good Christmas though and an excellent New Year, finally managed to shed the pervasive feeling of helplessness and shame that had been looming over him since he got the Flame inversion machine finished and had a much clearer idea of what he wanted to do in terms of meeting all the new and unexpected relatives.

It wasn't an official meeting; he'd just said he wanted to come over and horse had suggested the afternoon of the first Saturday of the year, before business got going again on the eighth. It not being official, Xanxus went alone on his motorbike rather than taking a Guardian or two and being driven.

Arriving at the Cavallone mansion made it damn clear everybody there knew he was family, because he got waved into one of the garages and told that 'Tenth' was in the green study, then when he admitted to not knowing where that was, he was given directions.

Only close family members were allowed to wander around unescorted in a Don's personal residence; Xanxus found it deeply strange being allowed to do so somewhere that wasn't the Iron Fort.

He found horse exactly where he'd been told to look; the man was slumped in a low-backed armchair with his head tipped back against the top and eyes closed, wearing a rumpled suit jacket with his shirt collar crooked and his hair sticking out every-which-way, Flames distinctly strained.

Xanxus closed the door behind him and wandered over, settling in the armchair opposite.

"Hi Xanxus," horse said without opening his eyes.

"Problem?" the Varia Boss asked.

Horse groaned, flopping forwards and burying his face in his hands. "I discovered this morning," he mumbled, "that we have not one, not two but _three_ Superbi half-siblings, all within a few degrees of each-other on their mothers' sides, and our newly-discovered big sister is _married_ with a _son_. So I had to tell Pantera Superbi all about why it was _urgent_ that he get in touch with Saola Superbi and rush her and her toddler to hospital _immediately_ for a gene scan, because my uncle Davide died of adrenoleukodystrophy aged nine and my father died of it too –uncle Maurizio is dying as we speak– so any daughters he had will be carriers, so our sister's baby son has half a chance of having inherited it and it needs dealing with _immediately_ through gene therapy or else he could be dead before he's ten and is far more likely to be dead than to ever see fifty."

Well shit. An X-linked recessive inheritance then? If so Dino was in the clear and so was Xanxus, but that didn't make it much better. Clearly Dario was the only one in that generation to escape unscathed, although Annamaria Cavallone might have as well. Then again, physically unscathed did not mean unaffected and having a sibling die young would be traumatic. Never mind revisiting the trauma as every other affected sibling died of it as well.

"Three more siblings then?" he asked, wanting to keep the conversation away from the medical inevitabilities he couldn't affect. If it turned out his nephew _did_ have it he'd offer Varia Medical's newfound expertise in gene therapy; Mist-work would be more reliable than civilian methods and probably cheaper and less distressing in terms of procedure.

"Four and one I suspect but haven't made overtures towards yet," horse corrected, tone flat. "It turns out my father seduced my mother's cousin's wife when I was three, so one of my second cousins is technically our half-brother. Not that Uncle Alberto is aware that Paolo isn't his; I had to swear to my Aunt Orietta that I would not breathe a _word_ of it until after her husband has died. Which probably won't take too long, seeing how much he drinks."

That was well beyond predatory and into 'complete shithead' territory; seducing your wife's in-laws? What the fuck had Andrea Cavallone been _on_ to think that was even remotely acceptable behaviour? "What about the suspected one?"

Dino groaned. "Dad seduced one of the Rocca twins."

Don Rocca's younger sisters? Well that was awkward. "When and which one?"

"I don't _know_ ," horse groaned. "She looks twenties-ish in the picture and the notes indicate even _he_ wasn't sure which one he'd picked up. It might have been both on different occasions; they're pretty infamous for taking each-other's places."

"Clodia got married at twenty-two," Xanxus pointed out dryly. It might have been Valeria, but as Dino had said, it wasn't like you could tell from a photograph.

"Yes, and she had her oldest daughter in November ninety-two, which unfortunately means Emilia Forno _might_ be our baby sister because that puts hypothetical conception just before my mother's breast cancer was diagnosed," Dino said tightly, "which would also explain why my father didn't notice the suspicious timing, since there were only six weeks between the diagnosis and the funeral and he was inconsolable for the entire following year. Then the adrenomyeloneuropathy kicked in, which presents with paraparesis and sexual dysfunction, so at least I _know_ there won't be any potential siblings conceived after early ninety-three because he basically stopped leaving the house then."

"So you've got to ask them in case she _is_ our sister, because if so she's a carrier and needs gene therapy for any future kids' sake," Xanxus concluded.

"Yes, and even if it _was_ Valeria he had a fling with, she could easily have conspired with her sister and brother-in-law to keep her daughter out of Cavallone hands, since she _knew_ my father was married so that made her the mistress and _required_ by Mafia Law to surrender her child to its father," Dino continued bitterly. "Valeria moved in with her sister the moment Clodia's pregnancy was announced and didn't leave again until her sister's second child was three. Shortly after my father's death."

Well that _was_ rather suggestive, wasn't it? And very awkward as well, seeing as if Dino was right then Mafia Law was on his side. Then again it was on his side for all the various Superbi as well, not that Dino could exactly take custody of his adult siblings. Emilia Forno however would be… fifteen? Yes, fifteen. So not only could Dino get custody, he could make life very difficult for her mother and those of her relatives who'd helped hide her from the Cavallone until now. Not that horse _would_ –he was far too soft– but Emilia's mother and complicit relatives wouldn't know that and wouldn't accept his reassurances either. Not unless he came clean on the family skeleton that was the inherited gene disorder, which if it got out would make it very hard for Dino to find a wife even though he'd got his only X chromosome from his mother so _couldn't_ have it. Gossip wasn't known to bother with little details like that.

"Could make it a Varia mission if you like," he offered; "the gene test, that is. So you know for sure." It wouldn't exactly be hard; even Information could do it.

"That would definitely help," horse admitted, finally looking up at him. "That way it would look like my father knew and chose not to pursue it, then I found out through looking through his papers and realised that she needed to know before being old enough to have children and find out the hard way."

"That the lot then?"

"Nooooo," Dino groaned, annoyance seeping into his tone. "I've still got dirty photographs of nearly thirty teenage girls with civilian-sounding surnames I need to hunt down to find out whether any of them got pregnant. I'm hoping not, but I doubt I'll be that lucky."

"Might have to wrestle with the Church and the civil adoption service then, horse," Xanxus pointed out dryly; a teenager could easily bend to their parents' expectations and give up a newborn they had no idea how to care for. Young adult women could too, but Dino had specifically said 'teenagers' and that just made their father even scummier.

"I'm trying not to think about that," horse admitted, making a face. "If it comes to that I'd rather pay one of your Mists to do a family tree of our father so as to get actual names, even if it means digging up his grave for a gene sample."

"Be more efficient to do that first," Xanxus pointed out; "that way you can burn the photos which don't come with kids attached."

"I still _need_ to meet those women, Xanxus," Dino said irritably, rubbing his temples. "I need to _give_ them the prints and the negatives and tell them my father's dead so they can stop living in fear. I may also give them a lighter so they can burn the evidence then and there, but I _won't_ destroy anything myself unless they're dead. They get to do that. They get to be _sure_ that they're free."

Horse had a point there. "Still be more efficient to do the family tree first."

The blonde groaned. "Are you volunteering one of your Mists, Xanxus?"

Meaning, would the Varia Boss pay for it out of his own pocket. "I'll send someone down." Tájna could do it; he specialised in interrogation, which included extracting pertinent details from bodily fluids and long-dead corpses. "With a secrecy contract." Not that Tájna _needed_ to sign one –the Mist hoarded secrets like nobody's business and this was technically covered by his Varia contract anyway since it pertained to Xanxus's immediate family– but such things were mainly for the customer's peace of mind.

"I won't say no then." Horse rubbed his neck. "God, I need a break."

"Go to Mafia Land for your birthday," Xanxus suggested on a whim. "Make it a two week thing, take a bunch of relatives and invite our adult siblings to stop by." Horse would get downtime and a chance to bond with his family in a more equal environment.

"Including yourself in there, Xanxus?" Horse asked hopefully.

"Could join in for a day or two." He was plotting a campaign to keep him well away from Europe for the entire first half of February in order to avoid the Valentine's Ball, so visiting Mafia Land at some point would probably be doable. Wouldn't even take much arranging, depending on where the island was at that point.

"Then I'll arrange matters and send out invitations," horse agreed, stretching his arms above his head with a groan, then flinching and lowering them again. "God, I'm sore."

"Can fix that for you, horse," Xanxus offered. He'd given Squalo and Florrie a few back massages each since that first time accidentally turning his Cloud Guardian to goo, so he could moderate his Flames according to whether a person was Active or not now.

"How?"

"Lie down on the couch and I'll rub your back."

Horse hesitated for an instant then levered himself to his feet, hissing and clutching at his head with eyes screwed shut. "Ah! Well I'm pretty sure you don't want to add my workload to yours so I guess I'm safe," he said wryly, stiffly unbuttoning his jacket and shirt and dropping both over the back of the couch. "Although right now death sounds pretty restful."

Xanxus snorted, rolled to his feet and shoved his idiot baby brother face-down on the sofa. "Quit whining pony; you're not wrangling Quality assassins."

"Could you _not_ call me– oh that feels so _nice_ ," horse mumbled as Xanxus dug his thumbs into the muscles around the other man's spine and let his Flames seep into the knotted tissue, loosening the tension. "Oooh."

The Varia Boss ignored the relieved whimpering; idiot horse shouldn't have let it get this bad in the first place. He had half a mind to peek at his half-brother's bonding conditions and see about arranging introductions to some compatible people; if horse had even _one_ Guardian they wouldn't have let him get away with shit like this.

Something to get his other Superbi siblings on board with, maybe; could even be a fun family bonding activity.

* * *

Boss had made it clear that he wanted _all_ his Varia Guardians to be present for the meeting with Nono on the seventeenth, so when the warning came that Don Vongola's cavalcade was coming up the hill they all congregated in the largest meeting room. Well, almost all of them; Squalo, being Right Hand, had to go wait in the Front Hall to greet the old man and lead the way over.

At least this time he knew Boss _would_ be waiting, so he wouldn't get left to make apologies in his Sky's absence.

Squalo waited silently for Don Vongola and his Guardians –all of them, well that really set the tone– to pull up outside the front door and start climbing out of the cars, then nodded sharply to Maínomai, who was standing on the first floor balcony. The doors promptly opened all by themselves and the Mist Officer swiftly made himself scarce as first Visconti, then Nougat, then Nono Vongola bracketed by Brabanters and Ganache with Nie and Croquant bringing up the rear all walked into the building.

The Rain Officer gave then time for their eyes to adjust to the gloom and become aware of the complete absence of smirking Varia bystanders, then spoke just as Don Vongola's eyes fell on him and the man started to open his mouth, cutting off anything the man might have tried to say:

"Don Vongola, this way if you would." Squalo then turned and marched off down the hallway, hearing and sensing the seven interlopers falling in behind. He could have walked more slowly, but he'd picked this speed specifically because it was slightly too fast to be comfortable for the elderly Don and Nono was far too proud to fall behind the pace being set when doing so would give Boss a chance to comment pointedly on how old the man was getting.

Arriving at the largest of the Varia's receiving rooms, Squalo kicked the doors open and loudly announced, "Voooi, Don Vongola and Guardians!" before making his way across the open space towards where Luss and Bel were loitering with Mammon.

This room usually held a long table and fourteen dining chairs, seven on each side, so Sky and Guardians could face off one-on-one in relative comfort. Today it contained only two rather low but attractively upholstered armchairs with high backs, facing one-another across a large oval coffee table slightly higher than the seats. The chairs were too low for a man with knees as bad as Don Vongola's to get out of comfortably without assistance and there were no chairs provided for any Guardians, which was bad form when Nougat and Visconti were not much younger than Nono was.

The setup _looked_ intimate and friendly, but it was deliberately awkward and blatantly inconsiderate of the physical needs of the visiting party. That Boss was leaning against the side of the further chair with his back to the door, cradling a large mug and ignoring the newly-arrived Don Vongola, was just icing on the cake.

The meeting hadn't even started yet and Boss had already made it abundantly clear how he felt about being ordered about in his own command. Not that Boss would have responded any better to being called to the carpet at the Iron Fort; in fact he'd probably have refused outright. His professional performance was impeccable, so Don Vongola had no reasonable excuse to do so. The controlling old man was just offended that Boss wasn't playing Happy Families with him anymore.

Rather than make a fuss and look like a querulous old man, Don Vongola chose to play the gracious martyr and settled cautiously into the low armchair, his Guardians spreading out around him.

"Good afternoon, my son," the man said, a faintly didactic note seeping into his tone, like a man instructing a forgetful child.

Boss turned around and collapsed gracefully into his own chair, propping his boots up on the coffee table with his ankles crossed. Now he was facing the room it was possible to see the mug cradled in his hands, which had 'NO' printed in thick black lettering on a cream ground. Squalo had not seen that one before today; where had Boss found it?

"Don Vongola, Guardians," Squalo's Sky drawled, lifting his mug so as to draw attention to it. "Hot chocolate?"

Visconti instantly grasped the not-so-subtle message being broadcast, as did Croquant and Ganauche; Nougat seemed more offended at the insult being done to his Sky than anything else, Nie was standing at Don Vongola's shoulder with his attention focused down rather than at the other parties present and Brabanters was as indifferent as ever. Squalo was pretty sure the Vongola Rain Guardian was depressed as all hell; no mentally healthy person was that emotionally flat.

Squalo took this as his cue to drift across to stand behind his Sky's chair to the right, Luss settling in on the left with Bel flanking and Mammon walking around to sit on the floor, leaning sideways against the arm of the chair in front of the Rain Officer.

They were technically a Guardian short, but Squalo would much prefer it if Don Vongola _never_ found out about Florrie and knew Boss felt the same way. Nono would only see the civilian Cloud as leverage or as an opportunity, neither of which would go down well at all. Gentle and easygoing as she appeared to be, Florrie was still a Cloud and Squalo suspected that she would use her civilian status to wreak utter havoc if any mafia person ever attempted to inconvenience her. Such as, for instance, by calling the police; not something anybody who belonged to the Underworld would ever _consider_ , but Florrie didn't know those rules and probably wouldn't play by them even if she did, because she would not consider them to apply to her.

Not wanting to go there and open that can of worms, Boss would be keeping his Cloud hidden for as long as was feasible.

"No thank you, Xanxus," Don Vongola said in response to Boss's offer. "How have you been of late?"

"Busy," Boss replied, sipping his hot chocolate. "Recent expansions have been very profitable." Meaning the branching out into sabotage and industrial espionage; those missions were very popular among the Varia completing them as well, as they allowed for a certain degree of creativity that assassination generally didn't. Especially if the sabotage was all mental; Kuchisake's movie nights were gaining popularity, much to her delight.

"Too busy to visit your father, Xanxus?"

Boss did not look up from his drink. "My father's been dead for years," he said casually. "You're just the asshole who took advantage of my mother's illness and kidnapped me."

Oh, were they doing this today then? Squalo settled into a more comfortable stance; one he could launch an attack from instantly if necessary. Around to his left his fellow Guardians did likewise as Boss settled into that deceptively relaxed slump that looked so indolent but could easily be the prelude to a devastatingly swift strike.

"Xanxus, I took you in and–"

"Kidnapped me," Boss repeated calmly. "My mother mistook you for my father and you took advantage of her confusion." He sipped his hot chocolate. "She was Superbi; Don Leone is somewhat displeased that he was not granted a say in my upbringing."

"How was I to know that, Xanxus, really."

"A Mist blood test would have sufficed; they really are the work of a moment," Squalo's Sky continued, tone still bitingly mild. "It makes a person wonder what you were trying to hide, that you did not immediately have one done for me. After all, heritage is _so_ important in the Vongola and it would have proven my parentage beyond all reasonable doubt."

"Mist blood tests are unreliable, Xanxus." Seriously? Don Vongola was taking that route? Fucking _seriously_? Squalo itched to bellow in the old fool's face.

Boss just sipped his hot chocolate again. "Lack of faith in one's subordinates' skill and honesty based on nothing more than Flame type is a most unfortunate failing for a Don. One might even consider it irrational prejudice."

"They _are_ unreliable, Xanxus, I've seen the mistakes!"

Boss finally looked up from his drink. "Have you perhaps considered that the tests _are_ accurate, but other people were lying to you concerning the relevant details?" He asked, tone ever so slightly scornful.

Don Vongola recoiled; Boss had very clearly hit a nerve there, although what nerve it was exactly remained unclear. "I can see you are not interested in listening to reason," the elderly man said sharply, bracing his hands on the arms of his chair and pushing himself to his feet with only a few minor wobbles on the way up, "or in recognising that it is not simply blood that makes a person family. I welcomed you into my home and my heart and this is how you repay me."

Boss ignored the blatantly manipulative outburst with far more serenity than he'd been capable of even three months ago; Squalo's Sky really was in a much healthier place now and improving with every passing day. "Should Don Vongola be interested in talking business with the Varia Head, do not hesitate to arrange an appointment," Boss drawled, for all the world as though he wasn't seething under the solidly indifferent façade, not bothering to look up from his drink as his 'guests' left the room.

"Nice mug, Boss," Squalo offered once he was sure Don Vongola and his entourage had left the building entirely.

"Christmas present," his Sky grunted, taking a large gulp of the remaining hot chocolate.

"It's very you," Luss commented.

Boss hummed, dragged his boots off the coffee table and rose abruptly to his feet, downed the last dregs of his drink and strode out of the room, mug till in hand.

"Well that was boring," Bel grumbled, sauntering over to throw himself into the chair Nono had just vacated.

"Interesting," Mammon corrected mildly. "I would be very interested to learn what 'errors' Nono is so _convinced_ of having seen in Mist-made blood tests that he dismisses them all out of hand."

Yes, that _was_ curious, wasn't it? "Well it's not like you're Mist Officer anymore, voi," Squalo pointed out, "so you could stop by the Iron Fort and investigate sometime. You've got the time and a little practice to adjust to new limits never hurt anybody."

"I think I will," the miser agreed, getting to their feet, "and I think I will have a hot chocolate of my own in the meantime."

Yes, watching Boss nurse his and smelling the cocoa had made Squalo feel rather hungry as well; he fancied a hot chocolate too now.

* * *

"Xanxus you were here barely two weeks ago, what happened?"

Xanxus got up off the sofa and walked across the room to kiss his friend as she closed the front door of the flat behind her. "Old fart set up a meeting to try and manipulate me into spending more time with him," he explained gruffly, "Then implied my not wanting to meant I was a petulant ungrateful brat."

Florrie hugged him. "He's a piece of shit and you deserve so much better."

"I didn't let him get an agreement out of me," Xanxus added, wanting to share his triumph. He'd never managed to have a conversation with the old fart that remained within his control as clearly as this one had –although the Stupid fucker's complete dismissal of Mist-tests had been an unexpected boon there– and it was proof that keeping his cool was a useful distancing technique.

"I'm really happy for you Xanxus; want to bake a cake to celebrate?"

"Chocolate cake?" Xanxus suggested hopefully.

"Sure, why not; you'll have to go out and buy more chocolate though, I don't think I've got enough left to make icing with."

"No problem."

* * *

"What's that Xanxus?"

He looked up at her, mug of tea cradled protectively against his chest. "Remember when we went to the Verdon Gorge? You painted and I borrowed one of your sketchbooks." His friend had framed one of those watercolours; it was hanging on her bedroom wall now.

"I remember," Florrie agreed, walking closer and eyeing the Zero-Point machine, which was about the same size and shape as one of those little robot vacuum cleaners. "You were doing technical drawing; there were six different layers and lots of detailed circuitry. Is this it?"

"Yes." Xanxus took a breath. "Remember I told you the old fart used his Flames to freeze me somehow? Well I worked out the specifics of it, but I can't do it myself because every time I try I get the shakes. But I need to desensitise myself _somehow_ so I made this."

"It turns Flame into ice?"She sounded fascinated.

"It used inputted Flames to power an inversion; I stop adding Flames, it stops working." He'd wanted to make sure he wouldn't accidentally freeze himself if he panicked, and ensuring the thing stopped working when he pulled back as well as when he hit the off switch was an important safety feature; as was the fact that the ice was produced on the far side of the machine from the person operating it. Oh, and it was durable enough that getting knocked to the floor wouldn't break it.

"That is so amazing; you're brilliant, you know that right?" His friend told him, hugging him sideways. "You've taken something you saw done, broken down the science then designed and built a machine to do the same thing. That's like seeing a bird flying and then creating a mechanical toy that actually flies using the same principles."

"Bit simpler than flight," Xanxus demurred, feeling flattered despite himself.

"Shush, you're awesome and should recognise it more often," Florrie said, going up on tiptoe and kissing him on the chin. "How does it work? Regular ice forms by chilling a specific substance to the point that it forms stable intermolecular bonds, so what happens? Is it freezing the nitrogen in the air or do Flames have a physical element rather than just being an energy manifestation?"

Xanxus hadn't actually thought about it in detail before. "Think it freezes all the air since it works by extracting energy –movement specifically– and using that energy to create a field around the frozen area to keep it isolated, so the solid produced would be a mix of nitrogen, carbon dioxide and oxygen," he theorised. Plus water and various traces of other gases, of course.

"So a Flame-made vacuum flask, powered by ambient energy? That's pretty cool." She frowned. "And also terrible, because that means you were flash-frozen to something like minus two-hundred-and-twenty Celsius. Except not flash-frozen, because you scarred and that wouldn't have happened if it had been quick. Unless that was due to your skin refreezing during the defrosting process?"

Xanxus shuddered; it was one thing knowing he'd been frozen for years, but thinking about the numbers and mechanics made the little voice in his head scream in terror and wonder how on earth he'd survived. He had and that was what mattered, but God only knew how lucky he'd been. Which, again, didn't help the part of him panicking over the very _idea_ of it.

"Oh crap, I'm so insensitive. Xanxus I'm _sorry,"_ Florrie said urgently, gently taking the tea mug from his shaking hands and setting it on the table. "Can I hug you?"

"Please." Holding her in his arms and feeling her quiet, muffled Latent Flames flutter against his while smelling her hair would remind him that he was alive, free and safe. That there wasn't anybody here who could do that to him again.

"I love you so much and I should just have kept my mouth shut," his Cloud muttered regretfully, wrapping her arms around his neck and letting him lift her off her feet. Xanxus closed his eyes, pressed his face against her neck and breathed, grounding himself. He wasn't in the catacombs under the Iron Fort; it was too warm and dry for that. He was in Florrie's living room with her in his arms. He wasn't smelling damp and limestone and steel; just the musky scent of his friend's skin, mixed with the vaguely tea-tree scent of her deodorant, with a touch of lavender from the sachets she kept in her clothing drawers and a hint of chocolate from the cake they'd been eating earlier. The only sounds were his friend breathing, the heating running and the distant steady patter of rain outside; there was no echoing drip of water off cool stone, no clicking and cracking of sublimating ice settling, no rattle of metal or peeping of electronics.

The only Flames here were his own and his Cloud's; the old fart wasn't here and neither were his Guardians, four known and two unfamiliar. The only pain he felt was a twinge of memory; his scars were healed now and Luss was planning on having another crack at his eye once business started slowing down again in June.

"Kiss me?" He requested hoarsely. Florrie immediately shifted back in his arms and brushed her lips against his, then dotted more kisses across the rest of his face, from the top of his forehead to the lower edge of his jaw and chin. That was even more grounding; feeling her body shift and flex in his arms and against his chest, her breath loud in his ears and the faint, tingling scrape of her damp, slightly rough lips every time they brushed his skin.

This was real. This was what was happening to him right now. Fingers in his hair and knees gripping his hips for leverage and warm lips caressing his mouth with a teasing edge of tongue, underscored with subtly possessive Latent Cloud Flames.

He wanted to carry her to bed, strip them both naked and have her edge him insensible, but that wasn't going to happen; that was his libido overreacting to the fact that he'd just had a mini-flashback to the defrost and come out the other side unexpectedly coherent. Basic instinct happening there; fleeing and fighting hadn't happened and some part of his brain was now agitating for door number three, so he had to tell it 'no.' Snuggling on the couch though, he could probably swing that.

"Can we sit on the couch for a bit?"

"Of course we can; we can eat more cake too," his friend agreed, pressing one last kiss to the corner of his good eye and wiggling a little so he knew she wanted to be put down. Setting her on her feet, he watched her get out a tray, put his mug on it then add a pair of little plates and forks before retrieving the tin containing the cake from the top of the fridge. "How much do you want?"

"Yes."

Florrie snorted. "As much as you can get away with, fine." She cut him a generous slab, poured herself some more tea then added her mug to the tray as well; Xanxus picked it up once she'd also added a slightly thinner slice of cake for herself and carried it all over to the coffee table.

An hour or so cuddling his Cloud and eating chocolate cake would help him settle again.

* * *

"So why did you bring the, erm, what are you calling it?" Florrie asked after dinner. "Ice machine?"

'Ice machine' sounded like a civvie kitchen appliance rather than a dangerous piece of Flame Tech that could freeze a person's hand off in seconds; Xanxus liked it It demystified the thing and conjured mental images of Primo using his Flames to chill beer or make ice cubes. He'd been calling it a 'Flame inverter' but he liked Florrie's name better.

"Was able to draw the schematics with you there," he explained, "but before that I kept having to stop; being around my other Guardians doesn't help, because they were there when I got frozen by the old fart's Heir."

"Xanxus I thought you said –wait, you got frozen _twice_?"

Had he not mentioned that? "Was only for a few minutes the second time," Xanxus explained quickly; "was a month or so after I got defrosted and I wasn't in the best shape. Also the old fart made me promise not to kill or maim the trash, so I was too busy reminding myself not to commit murder to properly defend myself." He'd also been tangled up in flashbacks and associated panic –from what little of the Sky Battle he remembered– so not in any fit state to fight at all. It wasn't like he was so inexperienced that his Flames cut out the moment his emotional equilibrium was shot, but to fight well you _did_ have to be working on more than terror and instinct.

His Cloud hugged him tightly. "It still should never have happened, Xanxus. Like I said before, nobody deserves that."

Xanxus bent down to kiss her hair and tug on her braid. "Anyway, with you it's easier to stay grounded in the present and not panic. So can you sit on my lap while I have a go at freezing things?"

"I don't mind at all," his friend said promptly. "What are we freezing? Should we go out and buy blueberries or juice to turn into ice lollies?"

That was a very fun thought. Could he actually use the Ice machine to make ice cream? He'd have to use minimal Flames and refine the focus so as not to freeze the packet along with the contents, but it should be possible. "Raspberries I think; can make chocolate and coffee sauce too," Xanxus decided.

"Ooh, are we making ice cream then?"

"Mini ice creams," Xanxus specified; Florrie had quite a few cheap ramekins so it wouldn't really matter if he broke a few, plus small sizes meant minimal Flames and less chance of setting himself off. They could then eat the fruits of his efforts in between goes, which would make the whole process more fun.

"Well there were several different ice cream recipes in my mother's books and some more in my own, so shall we start with vanilla and chocolate since I've probably got ingredients for that, cream and double cream included, then go shopping for what you'd need for other specific ice cream flavours tomorrow?"

Yes, that sounded fun actually. "I'll look through the electronic files, you read the books." Phrasing this as 'making ice cream with Flames' rather than 'desensitisation therapy' was already making him feel less on edge about the whole process.

Three hours and fifteen experimental ice cream flavours later, Xanxus rolled his giggling friend into bed –the _mandarinetto_ ice cream had probably been the last straw for his Cloud after the rum and the sherry; she was very much a lightweight– and went back to the kitchen to pack up the Ice machine before joining her. He felt slightly bloated from eating too much ice cream, had eight pages of notes on how to regulate his Flames while whisking the mixture to create the fluffiest, creamiest texture, had helped invent a dozen entirely new ice cream flavours on the fly based on what was in Florrie's cupboards –nutmeg ice cream had been surprisingly good– and only got a bit shaky twice, both times early on when they were still working out how to get ice cream out of the process rather than a solid brick of dairy you could crack somebody's skull with.

It had been fun. Ridiculously fun, even; he couldn't wait to do it again tomorrow.

* * *

This year's flu did not involve much in the way of fever, but made everybody's bones ache abominably and induced horrendous headaches; those who weren't suffering headaches still had all the usual sneezing and coughing, so weren't much better off. However over half the Varia were currently lying in darkened rooms and taking the strongest painkillers Medical would dispense, drinking when they could to stay hydrated and sticking to soft foods because chewing was actively painful. Especially for those Varia whose wisdom teeth were coming in.

Boss-honey was unfortunately included amongst those suffering from dental pain; his wisdom teeth hadn't yet broken the gum line so he'd been applying cold compresses and taking double-doses of regular painkillers, but had thus far been refusing to accept anything stronger than off-the-shelf paracetamol and ibuprofen. Which was admittedly normal for Boss-honey –he was extremely resistant to being dosed with anything that didn't come from a sealed supermarket packet– but this year Luss felt that it might be possible to bring the subject up without getting shot at. Boss-honey's reluctance to accept Flame-attuned pharmaceuticals made treating him for serious pain _extremely_ challenging, prolonging his recovery time and putting additional strain on his body; if the Sun could coax his Sky into revealing what the actual issue was, it might be possible to address it. Or, failing that, develop workarounds.

Letting himself into Boss-honey's office –shutters almost completely closed so the room was only very dimly lit, but empty– Luss made his way to the door of his Sky's bedroom, flared his Flames slightly as a warning then silently let himself in.

Boss-honey was sprawled face-down on his bed wearing loose clothing, no boots and clutching his tiger toy. His pain was perceptible through his Flames; Luss had timed this visit to match the moment when the current dosage of painkillers started wearing off.

"Hey there honey," the Sun murmured, sitting carefully on the edge of the bed so he didn't make the mattress bounce. "Want me to loosen some of that tension in your back and speed along the breakdown of the lactic acid?" One of the side-effects of Boss-honey not taking proper painkillers was that the migraines made his muscles knot up, increasing the pain he was in.

His Sky grunted agreement, so Luss carefully pushed aside the baggy T-shirt he was wearing and let his fingertips slide up the man's gloriously muscled back, persuading his muscles to relax and the acids floating around in and between the cells to break up.

"I recognise your right to refuse to take stronger painkillers, Boss-honey," he murmured as his Sky groaned softly, relaxing into the mattress, "but I can't say it doesn't make me worry about you. Can you tell me why?"

Boss-honey was silent as Luss folded the shirt down again then went to work on his Sky's neck and throat, eventually speaking as the Sun was sliding his thumbs along the younger man's jaw, numbing the pain from his teeth.

"Scum drugged my Ma a few times so she couldn't fight back; messed her up. Tried to drug me once or twice too; remember immolating somebody for that, so might have been how I went Active." Boss-honey made a deliberate effort to relax his muscles, which had all tensed up again due to the unpleasant subject matter. "Don't like opioids. Don't feel safe."

That was a rare admission and Luss vowed to honour it. "Would you like some reading on the various Flame-appropriate painkillers Medical stocks? What works for different Flame-types, investigations into various common and uncommon side-effects, dosage information and Mist-contract-enforced manufacturing standards?" If knowing what was in what he was being given was the sticking point for Boss-honey, then the Sun was willing to dig up all the paperwork he could get his hands on.

"Make me groggy," his Sky muttered, but there was a general sense of grudging willingness to cooperate there and Luss would take what he could get.

"I'm fine with paying Mammon for a Guardians-only perimeter or other security procedures of your choice if that would help, Boss-honey," the Sun murmured, running his fingers over his Sky's throat to encourage antibody production and soothe the swollen glands. "Refusing painkillers when you're hurting prolongs your recovery as the swelling takes longer to subside and it places additional stress on your body, as you're suffering the pain as well as whatever's causing the pain. Having Bester or Optima on guard could work too, if you'd prefer that. Whatever you're comfortable with trying."

"Think about it," Boss-honey conceded, turning his head away to bury his face in the stuffed tiger. Recognising that the conversation was over and having done everything he could to mitigate his Sky's pain, Luss bent down to press a quick kiss to Boss-honey's hair then quietly made himself scarce.

He'd brought up the subject, got an answer, offered a compromise and Boss-honey had agreed to think about it. That was plenty for today and the Sun had other patients to visit; Luss made a mental note to request test records from Vongola Medical on the various Flame-attuned painkillers the Varia stocked, so that Boss-honey could read them once he was feeling better, then headed down the hallway to visit Squ-chan. Having such long hair made migraines even more miserable for the Rain, but _he_ at least was willing to take the strongest painkillers Medical offered him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Pick up the pieces (and move on)**

"Sorry I couldn't be at the funeral, horse."

Dino smiled and briefly patted his recently-legitimated brother's arm. "It's fine Xanxus; I know you were planning to attend, but I'm rather more grateful that you're not ill anymore. Coming to the funeral while horribly ill wouldn't have done anybody any good." His fellow Sky still didn't look particularly well, to be honest; he was a bit pale despite the naturally darker skin tone, his eyes were slightly bloodshot and there was something carefully deliberate about his movements. Was his brother pushing himself to be up and doing when he should really have still been in bed recovering?

"Would probably have thrown up," the Varia Boss admitted wryly, leaning against the fence next to Dino and looking out across the massive theme park that took up a good quarter of the island. "Spent the day lying in a dark room with a migraine."

"In which case I am doubly glad you decided not to share your misery," Dino said promptly. "Thank you for suggesting this, by the way; the distraction is proving good for Denise and Demetrio and with all the other family adults around, Aunt Eleonora feels comfortable leaving my cousins with them and doing her own thing for a while."

"How's Annamaria?"

"She's making a point of going around everywhere and talking to people; I think she's got a plan for additional Family investments here. Which is a good distraction, I suppose, but if she's not tried any of the rides by day after tomorrow I'm going to drag her onto some and make sure she has some mindless fun."

Xanxus nodded. "And Dario?"

Dino gestured a little helplessly. "I really don't know, Xanxus. He's been pretty quiet, but Uncle Piero's here with him and it's not like this was a surprise; Uncle Maurizio's been dying for years now. In some ways it's a relief; he wasn't recognising anybody in the last few weeks and it's been incredibly painful all round." Uncle Piero was Uncle Dario's partner; it wasn't a legal arrangement, but Dino was quietly sliding money into various politicians' pockets to press for the legalisation of same-sex civil unions. It was very much a long-term thing, but Spain had ruled to allow for same-sex marriage a few years back so he was hopeful it would happen within his uncles' lifetimes.

Xanxus seemed to be mulling over something. "Varia offers end-of-life services too, horse," he murmured eventually, the words barely audible. "Get called in by heirs who can't bear to see the suffering prolonged any further."

Dino blinked furiously against sudden tears; he'd not known that, but in retrospect it was obvious; if a Don developed dementia or some cripplingly painful condition that utterly destroyed their quality of life then a quick end would be a mercy. Of course no good Catholic son could bear to commit patricide or even endorse suicide, but hiring a professional to 'ease their passing' could almost be considered another kind of palliative care. "I will keep that in mind," he managed thickly, "and possibly write it down for my eventual heirs, just in case."

The Varia Boss inclined his head and let the subject drop. "Been on any rides yet, horse?"

"Not yet, no; I've mostly been chatting with our Superbi siblings. Did you know Tahr runs a cinema?" It sounded like the kind of job most people only dreamed of getting.

"Only talked to Saola so far," Xanxus said, not elaborating on what the subject matter had been. "Got introduced to her son; brat stole one of my tails."

Dino wheezed; the mental picture of two-year-old Capriolo Superbi making off with one of the Varia Boss's hair decorations was both utterly hilarious and possibly the cutest thing ever. "What happened to it?" He managed to gasp.

"He's wearing it," Xanxus said dryly, flicking the remaining raccoon tail hanging from behind his left ear. "Doubt I'll get that one back."

Dino gave up on dignity entirely and burst out laughing.

* * *

Xanxus spent an hour or two talking to Hirola Superbi and a pair of Cavallone cousins who turned out to be Spiderman's older siblings, who were here because Stefano had been best friends with the late Francesco Cavallone all through school and Chiara was a trained palliative care nurse who had been heavily involved in the late Maurizio Cavallone's treatment. They lacked the Cavallone surname –their grandmother had been Ottavo Cavallone's sister– and their father had distanced himself from the main family around the time Dino had turned three, which Stefano admitted had been to do with 'Uncle Andrea's womanising.' In that Dino's recent digging and resolution to proffer apologies had led to their father revealing that the reason he'd stopped taking his family over was that Nono Cavallone had been making their mother uncomfortable. She too was a blond, if of a darker shade than most of Andrea's other conquests, so it wasn't unfounded.

Hirola Superbi on the other hand was now married to a Soave –one of the French Soave, so not at all closely related to the shark– and had three young daughters in addition to her seventeen-year-old half-Cavallone son. She was also a university lecturer in atmospheric physics, which was really impressive.

The Varia Boss however eventually had to excuse himself, citing the need to catch up with his men. Which was only half true, but nobody noticed the deception. Xanxus therefore made his way back across the island to Colonnello's training area, where he'd dumped one of his current Squads as punishment for spiking yesterday's morning coffee with some of Tyrant's signature brew.

Xanxus hadn't slept since and had spent the overnight ferry journey to Mafia Land planning a truly sadistic training regime for them. Admittedly not quite as terrible as August punishment exercises for Varia who had failed to meet Quality standards, but definitely getting there; he'd just lacked supplies and prep time to set that up, so had to make do.

Songbirds were a squad of four made up of two Clouds and a Lightning under one of the shark's veteran Rains, but either Fink had failed to notice what his idiots had been up to or he'd secretly thought it was funny, so he was getting just as much punishment as his subordinates. Xanxus had a feeling it had been the Clouds masterminding the coffee prank –still holding a grudge from his whipping Cloud Division into shape starting nearly three years ago– but the Lightning had definitely been in on it too. Admittedly Varoke had very conscientiously made sure to stock all the relevant medical supplies just in case things went wrong, but that was really no excuse.

The medic had also packed emetics, laxatives and diuretics, to more swiftly purge the coffee from his system, but Xanxus did not particularly want to spend half a day or longer chained to a toilet. He'd not noticed the issue until it was too late for vomiting to solve anything and was managing to use Flames to mitigate the effects slightly, so all that remained was waiting for the coffee to pass through his system. That was likely to take about four days in total, which he was nearly halfway through. There were theories on why the effects of Tyrant's coffee took so long to wear off, but the universal assumption was that it was a Flame-trick, if a very nasty one since sleep deprivation was a short trip to serious mental and physical impairment. Judgement, memory, mood and coordination all fell to pieces within the first day or so; then there was the physical stress being on a constant caffeine high put the body under, which was significant.

Short-term sleep deprivation was utter shit, but tormenting the idiot squad who'd thought this was funny was doing plenty for his mood. Team Houdini were dividing their time between wandering around the island's various attractions and watching their comrades suffer; the Varia Boss didn't give a shit what they did so long as they didn't create extra work for him.

Xanxus and the two squads accompanying him for this step of his three-week campaign were not the only Varia on the island; Kurt, the previous Alastor of Dark Horse, had been running sniper and military training courses alongside Colonnello for five years now and various assassins wanting to specialise in marksmanship regularly got sent out to learn from him. Kurt might not have been Quality any longer, but that didn't mean he wasn't still terrifyingly capable by most people's standards; he could simply no longer maintain the high levels of physical fitness required by the Varia for fieldwork.

"Boss," the former Varia said easily as Xanxus arrived at the edge of the obstacle course, offering a bottle of water.

The Varia Boss nodded at the South African assassin. "Progress?" he asked, accepting the drink and testing it for additives. It was clean, so he opened it and took a swig.

The Storm smirked sinisterly. "They're suffering, Boss; the Clouds especially. Fink's paired up with Varoke and they're managing about as well as could be expected, but Huilotl and Xuéjiū have had a falling out so are both trying to do it alone. Turns out this was Huilotl's idea so Xuéjiū is blaming him, while our charming dove is quite rightly pointing out that had his fellow Cloud not been fully on board with the idea it would have remained a revenge fantasy rather than actually being enacted."

The whole training ground was extensively bugged, so that Colonnello could supervise his students more effectively. "And Fink did not intervene because?"

Kurt sniggered. "He thought you'd notice the contamination and toss the coffee."

Xanxus winced theatrically. "Oh no, the blow to my ego," he deadpanned; he really _should_ have noticed, to be honest, but he'd been talking on the phone to Florrie so it hadn't quite registered that the coffee pot in the hotel room should _not_ have felt slightly like the Head of Varia Housekeeping. Tyrant regularly arranged Xanxus's coffee back at the Varia, so it hadn't pinged his subconscious as suspicious and there'd been nothing _in_ the coffee except coffee anyway, so he'd not considered it potentially hazardous.

Well now he knew better. He also had incentive to hunt down Tyrant when he got back and find out what the trick to the coffee was, if only so as to ensure he never had to suffer through it again by knowing how to cancel it out if necessary.

"Drunk it on a dare once," Kurt shared pensively. "Don't remember it much usually, but I get odd flashes every now and again. Generally when I smell coffee; I only drink tea now."

As a Storm, the effects would not have lasted as long for Kurt as they would for Xanxus, but the former Alastor would not have been able to mitigate the effects the way the Varia Boss could. Currently the Sky was feeling twitchy and couldn't sleep, but was otherwise not suffering any particularly perilous side-effects. His memory was working fine so far, he could focus and wasn't twitchy, hyper, silly or suffering heart palpitations; he could even feel his physical exhaustion building under the false energy of the caffeine.

"Ah, Xanxus! Come to watch the show?" Colonnello asked, dropping out of the trees; the Varia Boss had felt him coming miles away, so wasn't exactly surprised. The former Rain Arcobaleno only looked about four, so clearly he was aging at the usual speed rather than faster like Mammon was. Xanxus wasn't sure if that was due to uncontrolled Rain Flames slowing the process or because Colonnello had barely half the reserves that the rest of the Arcobaleno boasted; it could be either and Lal Mirch growing up all at once meant there was no true basis for comparison available. The older woman had always been much more meticulous about training her Flames as well as her body and mind. Then again, unlike Lal Mirch Colonnello hadn't been Active before becoming an Arcobaleno, so it was entirely possible that the abrupt increase in accessible Flames after the Curse broke had ruined his control entirely.

He wasn't interested in following up on how all the various Arcobaleno were growing up, but the possibility of variations was something worth mentioning to Mammon. The former Arcobaleno weren't big on camaraderie or even socialising as a group outside of jobs or needing things, which proved that shoving together people who lacked common ground or even a shared goal and expecting them to bond was doomed to failure.

"How're they proceeding?" the Varia Boss asked.

"Not very effectively," Colonnello replied with a sadistic grin. "I'm impressed by your setup by the way; might have to borrow some of your ideas for future students."

"Varia," Xanxus said laconically; it wasn't like they made a secret of being the best.

"You all make a big deal of Varia Quality, don't you," the Rain commented lightly. "Let's head over to the observation room; the view's better there and the camera feeds are well worth watching. Your other squad's even made popcorn."

Xanxus snickered; of course Team Houdini would make popcorn. Éclair was on that squad and the Lightning was a very cheerful foodie.

He probably wasn't going to get any sleep until after they'd left Mafia Land, so he might as well ensure both squads currently with him would be far too intimidated to attempt any tricks when he eventually passed out from exhaustion the day after tomorrow. He was sure the crash would be impressively spectacular, as would the caffeine withdrawal afterwards.

* * *

Absent Squad was picking up a lot of the new sabotage and espionage missions; partly because they were led by a veteran Mist who specialised in Spirit Walking, but also because the other three –much younger– members all had very subtle specialties. Hiss used his Rain Flames through his voice to induce compliance and obedience, Rector had a knack for calming animals and using them to induce 'accidents' and Tremolo used fine threads of Storm Flames to create nerve damage, which could be anything from making a person slip on a staircase and break their neck to manufacturing dementia.

Britain did not have that much in terms of proper Underworld presence so there tended not to be very many assassinations commissioned there; most of the Varia-induced deaths on British soil were of non-citizens. However there turned out to be a brisk market for more subtle and technical crimes, intellectual theft in particular, which was why Absent Squad were in the country and spending a few nights in the new safehouse run by Boss's Cloud Guardian.

Boss's Cloud Guardian now Named Patience. Hiss wasn't the only assassin to think that was funny. Especially since Boss _was_ a whole lot harder to rile these days.

They didn't see her when they got in –it was two in the morning locally– and by the time they got up she'd left for university, so Hiss and Tremolo had to make do with wandering around the house and taking a look at the garden, which was part-way through some rather serious-looking earthworks. It was clear that Patience –still funny– was turning the gently sloping lawn into a stepped garden with a terrace at the top so people could sit outside, but right now it mostly looked muddy.

Aknark insisted they leave for the mission shortly before lunch, so they didn't see Patience at all until evening number three, when she walked in the front door at five to midnight with a semi-conscious civvie woman who stunk of alcohol and vomit half-slung over her shoulder.

"Need a hand?" Hiss asked, sticking his head out of the communal living room opposite the Cloud's front door.

"Can any of you do drug tests?" Patience asked, kicking the front door closed behind her and all-but-carrying the other woman over to her flat. "I'm not sure of this is blackout drunkenness or date rape drugs."

"I'll grab a first aid kit," Rector said from behind Hiss, downing the last of his drink and hurrying through to the kitchen.

Aknark walked past Hiss and waved a hand in front of the woman's face, drawing briefly on his Flames. "Drugs," he pronounced flatly. "Still do the test; proof is always good to have."

"Thanks," Patience said shortly, fishing her key out of her pocket and opening her apartment door. "She's already thrown up, so I'm hoping that whatever it was, she didn't get a full dose."

"It's probably something that reacts adversely with alcohol," Rector said, reappearing in the hallway with the big Field Aid kit. "Unless she'd already drunk a bit too much, in which case the drug was overkill."

"Come in," was all the Cloud said as she walked into her home, elbowing the light switch and carrying the semi-conscious woman over to the couch. Once the drunk and probably drugged civvie was lying down, Patience fetched a bucket out from under the sink and set it beside the couch; presumably in the hope of sparing the floor and soft furnishings from being vomited on. "So what do you need to do?" She demanded, turning to Rector.

"Take a blood sample," the other Rain said easily, setting the first aid kit down on the coffee table with a muted thud, "then run through the chemical analysis and chromatography so see what comes up. I'm assuming it'll be some kind of prescription or over-the-counter drug, but if nothing leaps out we can do a urine sample and if _that_ doesn't work there are a few more exotic tests we can try."

Hiss stayed outside the apartment door in case the invitation had only been directed at the person with the first aid kit; his Squad Leader was also loitering in the doorway, which further validated his decision there.

"Zopiclone," Rector said eventually, looking up from his results as the Cloud tucked a few layers of blankets around the now-snoring civvie; the woman's coat and shoes were neatly removed and lying on the floor beside the bucket. "Alcohol enhances the adverse effects, which include nausea, vomiting, dizziness and drowsiness; it runs through the system pretty quickly though, so she should be fine in the morning." He paused. "Is she your friend?"

"No," Patience said absently, sliding another cushion under the woman's head. "I just saw her reeling as a pair of guys led her off out of the bar and decided to intervene. They said she was their friend but friends wouldn't have left her coat behind or been taking her belt off, so I made a big fuss and they bolted."

Boss's Cloud Guardian had a bit of a white knight complex? That was cute. Also very funny for reasons Hiss never intended to articulate, because Boss _would_ shoot him for suggesting his Cloud had 'rescued' him.

"Thanks for helping," she added to Rector. "Could you leave the test results and go away, please? I desperately need to sleep."

"Sure," Hiss's fellow Rain said agreeably, packing up the Field Aid kit. "Let me know if she's still having trouble in the morning, I don't mind doing a second check. Make sure it's all out of her system."

"Thanks," the Cloud repeated, walking after him to the door. "Goodnight." She then closed it, pretty much in their faces; not massively unusual for a tired, stressed Cloud and a lot politer than some.

"Well that was fun," Hiss murmured as they all headed back into the common room.

"Nice lady," Aknark agreed mildly. "I wonder, is her Territory connected to mental health or just about personal agency in general?"

"It can't be both? It's hard to make healthy decisions if you're in a bad place," Tremolo pointed out, emerging from the kitchen with a bowl of chocolate ice cream.

"Well, it'll make the betting pool more interesting," Hiss said pragmatically. "Shame we're leaving tomorrow; I was hoping to get cake." Boss's Cloud was getting rather infamous at the Varia, both for her baking and her willingness to share it.

"There'll be other missions," Aknark said dryly, stealing some of Tremolo's ice cream.

"Oi!"

"Should have brought some for everybody, Wobbly," the Squad Leader drawled.

"That's not my Name!"

No, but Tremolo's Name was what it was because his voice had broken very late indeed and he'd been huffing and squeaking though an unexpectedly chaotic mission that had culminated with the teenage mook giving their squad's target a lethal aneurism as his voice cracked yet _again_. Yes, it appeared to be about Tremolo's nerve-degeneration specialty –the damage inflicted did give people the shakes– but the truth was that Hiss had Named his kohai for being sneakily and unapologetically lethal despite sounding like a squeaky wheel.

That had been nearly three years ago and Tremolo hadn't forgiven him for it yet.

* * *

It was a quarter to five in the morning and Squalo was up doing paperwork, because missions made a mess of sleep schedules but he enjoyed them too much to ever stop taking them. He'd still taken missions when he'd been acting-Head of the Varia, so he wasn't about to stop now; especially not when his heart was fully his own and his scars were all-but-nonexistent. Travelling was far more enjoyable when you didn't have to worry about somebody's sniffle possibly killing you.

Then the phone on his desk rang. Squalo eyeballed it dubiously –whoever that was had got through Varia switchboard, which was admittedly impressive at this hour– then picked up. "Voooi, who's calling?"

"Ah, hi there Squalo-san!" came the familiar voice of his part-time student. "Is there anything particular happening over there on the Family side?" Sword-brat was speaking Japanese, but there was a particular cadence in his voice when he said 'family' that made it clear this was very definitely a Vongola thing.

"Why're you asking, brat?" the Rain Officer asked suspiciously. He'd not heard about anything being up, but that didn't mean it wasn't.

"Two of Tsuna's grandpa's people took him and Gokudera out of school a bit before noon," sword-brat said, tone faintly concerned. "Classes don't actually end until Saturday, so I wondered if it was urgent."

Nono was shipping over Chew Toy and Smokescreen for Easter? "Voi, nobody's dead or even dying," Squalo said firmly, answering the implied question. "I expect Don Vongola's finally getting around to filling in the other half of" –don't call him Chew Toy– "Sky-trash's education. There'll be flights for you and Mist-girl lined up on Saturday evening, so make sure you've got your passports and packing done; visas will be arranged from this end. You'll be staying with the Superbi this time." Because now the brats had a basic grounding in Vongola matters they'd be getting inducted into more Alliance stuff, so imposing on Bronco really wasn't polite. Especially not when Dino was mourning his uncle and still untangling the mess his father had created with his rampant promiscuity, neither of which were the brats' business. The brats would probably end up at the Iron Fort eventually, so they might not even still be staying with Pantera by the time they went home at the end of their three week break from school.

"Okay, thanks Squalo-san!" Sword-brat chirped. "I've been practicing, so can we spar when I visit?"

Squalo snorted. "Sure, why not. It's about time you learned how to integrate your Flames in your swordsmanship without relying on a Ring anyway." If his part-time student really _had_ been practicing those Flame exercises then he'd be getting to a point now that he should be able to work Flames into his combat style without the Vongola Ring. Rings were tools, to spark Flames the first few times and to use in battle if you had relatively low reserves, but past a certain point they were more of a hindrance than a help when it came to learning properly fine-tuned control. An amplifier like a high-grade Flame Ring was something that was _intended_ for applying brute force to a problem, so they were not at all useful for a person wanting to really learn to make the most of their reserves, and being completely dependent on a Ring was just asking for trouble should that Ring ever get lost, stolen, destroyed or you lost the finger –and possibly the entire hand– it was on during a fight.

"I'm looking forward to it," the utter _brat_ said cheekily, then hung up before the Rain Officer could bellow in his ear for the impudence.

Squalo slammed the phone down, surveyed his desk and made a snap decision: Thursday was his birthday and what with Boss starting to make a habit of going off with his Officers for birthdays, Nono probably wouldn't think to comment on him and his Sky being 'unavailable' for a few days. Give Boss some time to get used to the idea of Chew Toy being around rather than having the trash sprung on him, plus Squalo could finally exorcise that fantasy of Boss fucking him out in the woods in that Wild Hunt outfit.

What was the place Mōretsu had mentioned? Oh yes, the Belovezhskaya Pushcha National Park in Belarus; one and half thousand square kilometres of old-growth forest in a national park on the Polish border. Yeah, it was mid-March and would be pretty damn cold, but it'd be mostly above freezing and there wouldn't be that much snow, which was what really mattered when you were Flame Active; cold was easily enough to counter but snow meant getting wet, even more than rain did. They could fly to Brest, hire a car and stay in a guesthouse on the edge of the national park; there'd be all kinds of places catering to hikers and tourists.

Getting up from his desk, Squalo found the forms for taking holiday and set about filling them in for himself and his Sky. He'd need Boss to sign them, but he could do that once the man was actually awake and had eaten breakfast; that would also give Squalo time to investigate flights, accommodation and car hire opportunities. It would only be two or three nights and was ridiculously short-notice, but if it came to it they'd stick to a hotel in Brest and just drive out each day. Or whatever; it wasn't like Squalo cared what they did the rest of the time, so long as Boss fulfilled that fantasy he'd stuck in his Rain's head back in October. Five months was far too long to be haunted by an idea and Squalo wanted to find out if the reality was as enjoyable as the concept.

* * *

Xanxus glanced up from his coffee as the shark walked into his office and pushed a few sheets of paper across the surface of his desk.

"Voooi, sign these."

The Varia Boss flicked them apart, sipped his cappuccino and raised an eyebrow at the filled-out forms. "Why?"

"You're taking me to Belarus for my birthday," shark said flatly, "and you're bringing the Carnival costume; that fantasy of yours has been haunting me."

Oh. Well, in _that_ case… Xanxus picked up a pen and signed off for his and the shark's three-day holiday.

"Perfect," his Rain Guardian said with a sharp grin. "I've already sorted out flights and accommodation, voi, so you just need to pack; the plane's first thing in the morning."

"Why Belarus?" Xanxus asked curiously; it was March and that far north and east it still snowed in March half the time. There was woodland on the side of Etna; hell, there was a national park just south of the Prizzi and another even closer, just north of Baucina and barely half an hour's drive away. There was even the _Parco delle Madonie_ that the Giglio Nero lived in the edge of just a little bit further east, not that Xanxus was particularly keen to get within noticing distance of Miss Spook. There was woodland all around the Iron Fort too, but no way in hell was he _that_ much of an exhibitionist.

Shark fiddled with the forms. "Voi, the sword-brat called me earlier," he said flatly; "Nono sent two of his Guardians to take Chew Toy and Smokescreen out of school; they'll be on a flight by now."

What.

Chew Toy was coming _here_?

Yeah, a few days in Belarus sounded fantastic actually, even if it _did_ snow. Snow just meant using more Flames to keep dry and warm if they were going to be out in it.

"Voi, that's what I thought you'd think," shark agreed, presumably reading his opinion of this particular surprise right off his face and Flames. "I'm using one of the female passports; it's less hassle getting double rooms if we look like a regular couple." The shark was skinny, so a bit of makeup and a few wardrobe adjustments let him look like a woman; a very tall, very slim woman who probably worked as a catwalk model. Early spring meant wearing long sleeves and high collars, so what remained of the scars and the false hand wouldn't be particularly noticeable either. One of the few Mist-tricks the shark could pull off well was changing the pitch of his voice so he sounded husky; the loud was entirely natural and persisted regardless.

"Going to wear a skirt out in the woods, shark?" Xanxus drawled, taking another sip of his coffee.

The Rain side-eyed him. "I might."

Xanxus bit the inside of his mouth in an attempt to get his libido to calm down; the idea of ambushing the shark out in the woods wearing his Carnival costume was already fantasy material, but if the shark wearing a skirt and he could just reach up under it…

"I think I'll wear a skirt on the plane too," shark mused, smirking. "A short skirt."

Xanxus found his voice. "Tease," he accused roughly. They'd be taking a civvie flight, so they wouldn't be able to fuck during the journey. Well they _could_ but commercial plane toilets were tiny and it was just tacky.

"Takes one to know one," his Rain Guardian retorted lightly. "I've set Information on digging up everything they can of the imminent visit; we can work through things after dinner."

Implied was that Squalo was perfectly happy for the 'work' to involve as much sex as Xanxus wanted, so as to exorcise his frustrations. "Hold you to that, shark," he growled; just because he would be getting to live out a long-held fantasy in the next few days did _not_ mean he didn't have a lot of other things he'd enjoy doing just as much in the meantime.

"Until this evening then," shark agreed, turning and leaving the office with a swing in his step. Xanxus was tempted to ensure his Rain had a limp in the morning, but dismissed the idea; better to keep that for while they were on holiday, not right before they left. He could settle for edging the shark insensible, as a reward and a punishment for springing both this holiday _and_ Chew Toy's imminent arrival on him right after breakfast.

* * *

Squalo walked briskly between the trees, his breath forming clouds in the air around him and frost crunching underfoot. It was ridiculously early in the morning, but Xanxus had woken him up several hours before dawn and told him to 'get yourself ready and start walking,' which the Rain had taken as an indication that his Sky planned to ensure privacy for them by being out much, much earlier than any sane person would contemplate.

The sky between the trees was only now starting to gleam with the prelude to dawn, sunlight illuminating the sparse clouds overhead and starting to hide the stars. It was freezing cold, but nonetheless shaping up to be a beautiful morning. Squalo however felt it would have been a better birthday morning had breakfast been something other than trail bars and water; fresh bread still warm from the oven, for instance, possibly with jam or some bacon. The cabin they were renting –March was not exactly prime tourist season– had a decent kitchen so a hot breakfast would have been perfectly possible, considering they'd shopped yesterday afternoon on their way there.

He'd make Xanxus take him to a restaurant for dinner to compensate.

There was mist amongst the trees on either side of him, making it difficult to see far, but Squalo had his Flame senses wide open and knew there was nobody within two kilometres of him, Latent or otherwise. He couldn't even feel Xanxus, which was odd but implied his Sky was deliberately hiding himself rather than that he wasn't here. Xanxus was incredibly, shockingly good at hiding for a Sky; that he could hide from his own Guardians was something Squalo had thought wasn't possible until the man had proved it off-hand, like it wasn't an achievement.

Xanxus was completely shit at recognising how he was significantly above and beyond even Varia Quality.

Squalo walked up a low outcrop and paused above the drop, taking in the view east through the treetops; the glimmer at the horizon said that true dawn was only minutes away. Staying where he was, Squalo watched as the glimmer became a bright slither of gold, casting a luminous glow over the very tops of the trees and prompting an increasingly polyphonic chorus of birdsong to erupt from all around him. The slither became a wedge, then a visible curve, light sliding down the trees and catching on the mist, producing a diaphanous halo of rainbow sparkles.

Dawn was always the most beautiful time of day.

Squalo didn't know how long he spent watching the sun ease over the horizon, but what dragged him back to earth was the niggling feeling of eyes boring into the top of his spine. He couldn't feel anybody, but he was _definitely_ being watched. Considering this forest had bison, lynx, wolves and bears and it was early enough in the year for the bears to be seriously pissy about being awake, he turned around towards where the feeling was coming from.

The thrill of shock at the sight of the deer skull almost floating in the luminous mist, red glimmering in the depths of the eye-sockets and the tall, mottled and vaguely humanoid silhouette beneath it made Squalo's heart jump into his throat, his blood pounding in his ears. He knew intellectually that this was his Sky, but he couldn't _feel_ Xanxus and his brain was arguing very convincingly that what he was seeing wasn't _right_.

He was unnerved and wrong-footed and very seriously turned on. The odd hip-swaying stalk as the other man advanced on him out of the mist, head and shoulders completely steady and feet silent on the frosty leaf litter, just made it harder for the swordsman to string together a coherent line of thought.

There was no breath. He could see his own breath clouding in front of him, more of it as his heart rate increased and he shivered in anticipation, but there was nothing coming from the skull covering his Sky's face and that made the encounter feel oddly unreal. All he could hear was loud birdsong and his own harsh breathing, as though the figure before him really was an apparition.

"Fuck," Squalo heard himself say, voice hoarse and oddly distant, as a demi-gauntleted hand reached up to cradle his throat, the smooth leather of the glove gliding across his skin and lingering over the veins in his neck as his eyes were caught by the multicoloured lichens growing on the ancient-looking vambraces, pauldrons and breastplate, droplets of mist glittering on the riotous growth and strung along the cobwebs like tiny opals.

 _Fuck. Me._

Then he was being manhandled up against a tree, another hand yanking at the leggings under the long winter skirt he was wearing, and Squalo's brain checked out entirely at the feel of a cool, leather-clad thumb sliding up the sensitive skin of his inner thigh.

* * *

If it had just been Chew Toy visiting, Squalo's Sky might have managed to suffer through the various meetings and events with reasonable grace; trash was shit-scared of him, so made an effort to be polite if communication was necessary and avoid the Varia Boss whenever possible otherwise. But it wasn't just Chew Toy; Smokescreen was dogging his enabler's footsteps, snarling and scowling at anybody he thought was looking askance –which started off being entirely in his head and became less so as the weeks passed– while salivating at the prospect of all the power and influence being handed to him on a silver platter by virtue of his self-appointed role as Chew Toy's Right Hand.

Smokescreen was just as afraid of Boss as Chew Toy, but the parasite was too Stupid to follow his host's example. Instead he bristled, growled, challenged and generally tried Boss's very limited patience with his petty arrogance and blatant insecurities. Squalo's Sky therefore ignored the suicidal moron on principle, a pointed dismissal that every pair of Alliance eyes would read as the Varia Boss not considering Smokescreen to be a player of any worth or importance, merely a decoy and irritant that had to be suffered so that Chew Toy's _real_ Right Hand could get on with the actual work.

That the sword-brat was not attending any of these meetings or snobby parties, instead frequenting a range of smaller gatherings hosted by a number of other prominent individuals and talking to the people who did the _real_ work in the Alliance –House Heads and their lieutenants, Donnas, negotiators, doctors, teachers, buyers, lawyers and farmers– further proved that Smokescreen was merely a distraction, bait to draw out enemies of the Family while the real work happened behind the scenes.

Chew Toy and his most annoying attachment were completely awful, but Boss could probably have put up with them in suitably small doses with time in between to work through his fury and hurt and burning irritation at how dismally, wilfully incompetent they both were. But Miss Spook –as Boss had dubbed the Giglio Nero imposter– and the lunatic flower were both crashing the party – _all_ the parties that weren't explicitly Vongola-private– and Squalo's Sky couldn't watch the trio interact for more than two minutes at a time without storming out of the room.

Not that Squalo blamed him. Watching Miss Spook use soft manipulation tactics on the two teenagers, effortlessly directing them and planting ideas with smiles, hints at the Giglio Nero gift of foresight to imply a lack of risk –indeed a certainty of a favourable outcome– in particular decisions and apparent warm regard and trust in their doing 'the right thing' was just sickening. The plant had taken over the Giglio Nero –Donna Aria's only publically known Guardian had been completely suborned– and had now set her sights on the Vongola, with the Gesso as a pawn and stepping stone. Miss Spook had clearly been grooming the crazy flower right from the outset –the Mare Rings would never have arrived in his hands without her interference, both here and in the fake future, and she had clearly been just as aware of the layered simulations as her stalking horse– and that she was still sane made it clear who had been more in control of their environment there.

However unlike Chew Toy, the mad orchid had five properly bonded Guardians and it was clear from watching their dynamic that the Gesso Heir actually _listened_ to them and valued their opinions. His Cloud's in particular; Kikyo was the oldest of the set –bar the Cursed mask, which didn't really count to Squalo's mind as it was more spirit than person despite inhabiting a human body; another sign of how sane the flower was not– and unquestionably his Sky's Right Hand. Despite the mint-haired man's general demeanour in both the present and the fake-future being strongly reminiscent of Lussuria –the fashion sense, the passive-aggressive saccharine sweetness, the willingness to talk about things with his fellow Guardians and subtle undercurrents that betrayed that here was another person who had fully embraced the philosophy of better living through spite– Squalo was most reminded of Pýř. The subtly Territorial behaviour over an individual who was exceptionally intelligent yet not conventionally sane, the political acuity, the willingness to commit murder at the drop of a hat and disinclination to play with his opponents… it all painted a picture that the Rain Officer was very familiar with.

It also told a story; if a person wanted Maínomai to really take their opinion _seriously,_ they first had to convince Pýř. Because Maínomai trusted his partner above all others and Pýř was observant, intelligent and not given to taking strangers at their word unless he could see the foundation their beliefs were built upon. Kikyo was like Pýř and Byakuran had quite a lot in common with the new Mist Officer; if Squalo could persuade the Gesso Cloud Guardian that Yuni's background and motives should be questioned, well.

The Giglio Nero were an old and respected Mafia Family, but they didn't have much in the way of liquid assets. The Gesso had those; they were a _nouveau riche_ Family with pots of money but very little influence. The fake-future's Millefiore had combined the Giglio Nero's influence with the Gesso's financial power and shaken up the Underworld a great deal in a very short span of time; if the real-life Gesso were reluctant to make such an alliance, especially in the face of the uncertainty that would infiltrate the criminal market with Chew Toy's imminent ascent to the position of Don Vongola, then Miss Spook's influence could be limited and curtailed.

The Varia had a file on the virtual realities created by the Bovino Bazooka and their inferred interaction with the Arcobaleno system; it would not be so hard to get it into Kikyo's hands, along with the list of proven facts that had been put together on the being calling itself 'Yuni.' Such as how she'd only been eight in the fake-future, so should not have existed in the simulation as a Flame-Active individual because there was nobody living to base her _on_ in order to extrapolate her primary drive. Also how, going by the timing, the Mare Rings could only have arrived in Byakuran's hands with her approval; the simulated Byakuran had already been worried about his sanity before being given the rings and they'd pushed him firmly over the edge.

Kikyo would probably be scornful of the information to begin with, considering it a blatant attempt at manipulation, but time and the determination –and subsequent inability– to prove otherwise would be convincing in themselves. Squalo had time. He could wait for the Cloud to find his own evidence for what the Rain Officer –and indeed the entire Varia– had determined to be true.

* * *

Rather than hand over the files personally and risk Kikyo either refusing them or demanding an immediate explanation, Squalo had Maínomai drop the folder –plus a brief semi-explanatory note– on the Cloud's bed in the Giglio Nero guesthouse the Gesso were currently occupying. That way Kikyo would find them in the evening and hopefully be curious enough about _why_ the Varia were contacting him like this to read the file's contents rather than just toss it out.

Even if Kikyo didn't read it all, the Varia having gone to the trouble of making such a delivery at all would at least pique his curiosity. Delivering the file like this was more of an appeal to the Cloud's nature than to logic or sense; emotions really did mess with the latter two, no matter what people claimed, so trying the direct route would have led to somebody getting offended and nothing being done.

Squalo's other reasons for not doing the delivery directly related to not wanting to risk a run-in with the Giglio Nero and Miss Spook, but also –on a more personal level– not wanting to accidentally find himself alone with Zakuro. Yes, the Rain Officer _knew_ those memories were not real and had never happened, but even seeing the Storm in passing as he lurked behind his Sky brought to mind the scent of burning metal, the sight of his favourite blade collapsing into ash and the agony of losing more of his sword arm to Storm Flames. He was mostly able to ignore it in public –he had backup– but the prospect of encountering the scruffy redhead in a deserted corridor made his nerves jangle.

He was going to have to unpack that at some point, the sooner the better really, but it would take time he didn't have right now. On the upside, none of the Gesso seemed particularly keen to spend quality time with the Varia either so his aversion might pass unnoticed. Kikyo was keeping his colleagues close and did not seem likely to wander right up to Boss; especially not if his memories of that fake-future headshot were anything like Squalo's memories of Zakuro.

* * *

Despite Boss very clearly not wanting to attend all the various Vongola parties, meetings, outings and visits Nono was arranging for Chew Toy, Don Vongola was insisting that the Varia Head attend them _all_. It was power play; this was something Don Vongola could _order_ Boss to do, so he was doing so despite it being a pointless waste of time. Squalo assumed the intended message was that if Boss hadn't 'forced his hand' by refusing to socialise Nono wouldn't have to 'resort' to these methods to spend time with his 'son,' but honestly that was garbage. Boss couldn't make the old fart _do_ anything. Squalo's Sky just hadn't wanted to spend any time at all with the man who'd fucked him up, which was completely fair and resaonable, but his position within the Vongola meant that he _did_ have to attend official events if he was in the country to do so. So Nono was making _all_ these Stupid events 'official' to try and bring Boss to heel, which was just succeeding in pissing off Boss more.

At least Reborn wasn't here; it was already bad enough without adding the hitman's particular brand of chaos to events. If Reborn were here there would be more than just grumbling, as the hitman just did not think long-term to how stripping somebody of their dignity for laughs could cause trouble months or years down the line within the Alliance.

Of course it wasn't just Boss being inconvenienced; official Vongola events meant all the Alliance Dons had to make appearances at them all too, at the parties and outings at least. The meetings were Vongola-internal and the visits were to the homes of specific Dons and certain business establishments, but that was still a large number of events to attend in the weeks around Easter, which was traditionally a private religious and family occasion rather than something to put on a fancy public show for.

It was abuse of power, simple as that. Of course Don Vongola was probably telling himself he was 'justified' since he had to introduce his Heir to everybody and make sure Chew Toy was familiar with the Vongola's internal systems, but he'd not needed to wait until Chew Toy was halfway to seventeen for that. He could have started _years_ ago. _Should_ have started years ago, in fact; if he had Chew Toy would probably speak Italian fluently by now and not make that distressed sheep face when confronted with Western cutlery.

Admittedly Chew Toy _was_ capable of using the cutlery properly, but his fumbling unfamiliarity made it clear that the knowledge was a recent Mist-implant. The same with his Italian; he clearly understood what was being said, but his pronunciation was poor and he stumbled over word order and idioms. It was possible for a Mist to implant both languages and practical skills so neatly and firmly for it to be impossible to tell how long ago they had been learned, but Rokudo was the only Vongola-affiliated Mist who could have done it this badly: the former inmate was a rank, arrogant amateur and sloppy to boot.

Never mind that his Mist hadn't bothered to copy over the muscle memory for Chew Toy's mouth, tongue, throat and vocal chords, so he had no idea how to say the words in his head and kept wincing at how terrible his own pronunciation was. Rokudo had at least copied over to his Sky the Italian spoken by Smokescreen rather than his own –presumably on the prompting of Mist-girl as he likely wouldn't have cared otherwise– but it still put Chew Toy in the position of having the Italian of a preteen intellectual snob who'd dropped out of his last year of elementary school and plain didn't _know_ a whole lot of words and common cultural references as a result. Chew Toy's language skills were a hack job done without any consideration of factors beyond the most basic technical knowledge; as though idioms and references weren't the key to appearing fluent even when you weren't really.

Cultural references that Rokudo would be equally oblivious to, having grown up first in a lab then spent puberty raising himself in between massacring people; a lot of Dons were resorting to Japanese in the interests of clarity and fluency. Another black mark against the prospective Decimo: he couldn't even be bothered to learn the language of his inheritance –his own father's mother-tongue– despite knowing for nearly four years now what was coming. No one had said anything about Reborn yet –well not in Squalo's hearing– but the Rain Officer knew that many would be disapproving of how lacking his student was after so many years of tutoring. Of course Chew Toy's incompetence wasn't an immediate concern to _them_ –though many would be planning on taking advantage of it if it persisted– as Nono was still alive and as healthy as a man in his seventies with bad knees could be.

It really was not at all surprising that Boss could barely stand to be in the same room as Chew Toy; Squalo wasn't much happier about it but it wasn't the Family _he'd_ been raised in and pledged himself to that was getting handed over to this trash. His Sky's fury there was completely understandable.

* * *

When the Gesso arrived at the party on the evening after Squalo had arranged for Kikyo to receive the file they were a depleted group: Zakuro and the Mist-mask hadn't showed. The orchid waved if off as them 'not needing to be here; we're among friends are we not?' and similar social lies, but Squalo suspected otherwise. Neither Guardian was missed by the other guests as they'd never talked much –Mist-mask was downright unsettling even to those who didn't know what it was and Zakuro never bothered to hide his accent, which marked him as dirt-poor even in Italian and implied he'd deliberately learned all the languages he spoke from the impoverished and destitute so as to be consistently shoving his background in people's faces– but Squalo found it telling _who_ was missing.

Investigating this kind of thing was indeed a job for a Mist, but it was also a job for a Sky's Left Hand. If Squalo had been given that kind of file and hadn't been sure of the validity of the information, he'd have taken it to Mammon –who was a Mist– and to Lussuria, who was Left Hand. Had been Left Hand long before he bonded, in fact, because the Left Hand needed to be subtle and the Sun Officer was capable of truly remarkable subtlety when it suited him.

Zakuro playing up the hick enforcer image was akin to Luss making a big deal of the camp flamboyance; it wasn't a lie, but it wasn't as fundamental to their image as they made out it was. Everybody expected Luss to wear the feather boa, have his hair dyed in bright colours up in that outlandish eye-catching floppy Mohawk-thing, so if he changed his hair –the Varia had a varied and very high-quality wig collection– and his clothing and wore a different pair of sunglasses or even contact lenses he got completely overlooked. The Sun could even move differently, which was a very neat trick; Zakuro likely had similar skills, although he'd probably have less practice out in the real world since he couldn't have been with the mad flower for more than four or five years at best; two or three was more likely.

"Shark," Squalo's Sky said quietly, watching the lunatic flower's posse from over his wine glass.

"Yes Boss?"

"Luss comes tomorrow."

"Yes, Boss." Squalo didn't mind getting banished from the social scene for a night –the break would be very welcome– and his Sky probably wanted Luss for the Sun's unusually precise Flame-reading skill. Which admittedly would give Boss an extra edge here as well as meaning that he could afford to pay slightly less attention himself; hyper-vigilance was unhealthy and Boss was definitely sliding into that after five days of non-stop social appearances. There'd be no events from Holy Friday, but the Rain Officer had a feeling they'd start up again on the Tuesday after Easter and keep going for another week, minimum, so there'd be more interference keeping them from getting actual work done. Still, getting a day off would be very nice. He probably wasn't going to be able to fit in that spar with the sword-brat though, what with having to be at the Iron Fort every single day.

The day off would however give him a chance to spectate as Bel instructed sword-brat and Mist-girl in the proper use of exotic cutlery, lessons which were taking place in the Superbi guest-house the duo were staying at and that Sekti had already promised to film for posterity. Prince the Ripper's Manservant had agreed that the footage would be educational, but Squalo knew the other man well enough to know that he planned to get a story out of the event as well. Amusing anecdotes of Vongola Guardians-in-training would be popular and a currency outside the Varia as well as within it; Squalo suspected the generalist Storm's venturing out of Varia spaces was due to Bel starting to take an interest in Vongola goings-on. Sekti had turned inoffensiveness into an artform and was an excellent storyteller, so it wouldn't be long before he was getting invited to all kinds of parties and picking up new and amusing stories to tell elsewhere.

Sekti was of course also amusingly blind to the implications of some of his habits and pastimes, but Alliance party guests were unlikely to show an interest in hand-made assassination tools or how to make weapons out of human bones, so it probably wouldn't come up. If it did, well, Varia; it'd just feed the rumours, which were already far worse than anything anybody actually Varia had ever done.

Nobody _actually_ bathed in the blood of a hundred men to become an Officer; generally it only took one.

* * *

Bel had already coached both sword-brat and Mist-girl through the proper way to eat lobsters and oysters, so today it was snails. Well, it had been snails for lunch; for dinner they were being put through an eight-course meal as 'practice.' Squalo had only found out an hour previously when the Storm Officer cornered him and demanded that he 'dress appropriately' for the occasion, adding that 'other guests' were also invited. The Rain Officer therefore turned around and put on his fancy dress uniform instead –basically an armoured and Flame-proof charcoal suit cut to allow for combat mobility– and a nicer pair of gloves.

Heading downstairs to get a car over to the Superbi Estate revealed that Lessi, Maínomai and Pýř had also been 'invited' –Lessi was even wearing a dress– and upon arriving at the guest house where sword-brat and Mist-girl were being put up Squalo noticed that there were a few more people present.

"Hullo there cousin," Pantera, the Family Heir, drawled amusedly, his wife Immacolata standing off to one side and chatting with another female cousin Squalo didn't recognise off the top of his head, Lepre who was the cat's social secretary and… wait, was that Colocolo? Yes it was; Squalo only knew about him by reputation, because he'd gone into the priesthood which was something most Superbi _didn't_ do. He was even wearing his cassock, which Squalo assumed was due to Bel inviting him in his official role to give the brats a soft introduction to how very Catholic the Alliance were, which was an excellent idea and something the Rain Officer really should have thought of sooner. It was going to get out soon that Chew Toy wasn't Catholic and wasn't even Christian, which was probably going to provoke outrage and possibly be a bigger sticking point than the being Japanese and civilian and foreign. All those other things could be worked around; being a heathen could _not_.

He should mention that to Boss; Giotto had been a devout Catholic, so that his descendant wasn't and might not even know what Catholicism _was_ could make a very messy and awkward obstacle for Nono to have to overcome. Provided of course that Chew Toy was willing to convert at all… it would make good material for if Boss wanted a loud public fight as an excuse to storm off and be unavailable for a few weeks, since it could be construed as 'moral outrage' so not something Don Vongola could feasibly criticize. It would also force Nono to delay things and arrange for Chew Toy to meet some priests, so as to make sure his Heir _appeared_ willing to convert. Or at least found out what the fuss was about. Religious sensitivity was a good thing to have, considering religion was frequently a fundamental part of culture; some familiarity there might make those cross-cultural inadequacies a bit harder to spot.

Squalo personally didn't think Chew Toy should be pushed into converting if he didn't want to; the whole point of Christianity was that it was personal and relational, centred on the believer's relationship with God, rather than being about pomp, pageantry, jumping through hoops and rules-lawyering. Compared to the biblical precepts laid down in the gospels, Catholicism had rather lost the plot; not that he aired that opinion very often outside family events. His relatives might agree with him there, having met devout practicing non-Catholic Christians, but the rest of the Alliance would be repulsed by his endorsement of –the horror– _Protestantism_.

Not that Squalo was a particularly good Christian –he was an _assassin_ – but he'd been raised nominally Catholic, so had been baptised shortly after birth and done his first communion and confirmation at the appropriate times, along with just about everybody else at the Academy. He even attended services in the Varia's private chapel whenever he was in the building on Sundays, or else took Delfina to mass in Superbi Territory.

He didn't go to confession though; Varia contracts didn't allow for it. His sins were between him and God and there they'd have to stay.

"Hello cat," Squalo said flatly to his cousin. "Why're you here?"

"I heard that the Storm Officer was hosting a dinner for my guests," Pantera said sweetly, "Which of course I couldn't possibly snub. That would be rude. The Storm Officer knew that already, of course, hence my invitation; he noted that it was an event specifically for the education of his two students, so any etiquette _faux pas_ should be gently corrected as they are not intentional." He smiled. "I think I will host a few dinner parties myself over Easter; private family affairs, close relatives only. I'm sure your grandfather would be delighted to join me, he very much wants to spend time with his newest nephew." Which implied there was a new baby in the family since the word for 'nephew' was the same as the word for 'grandson,' but cat was actually talking about Boss; subtlety was the name of the game within earshot of the brats and other non-family members.

Squalo twitched at the prospect of Boss and Grandpa eating dinner together socially; those business meetings had been bad enough. "Voi, I'm sure Delfina would enjoy that," he said, wanting to head off too much embarrassment.

"Oh, would you bring her over then? That would be lovely, Squalo."

The Rain Officer ground his teeth at the blatant manipulation; he grudgingly recognised that family get-togethers were a good cause –Delfina did like spending time with their relatives in small numbers– but that didn't mean he liked being pushed around. "Vooi! Fine, I will. Maybe another cousin or two as well, to round out numbers." Get Boss introduced to a few people before the Family Reunion at the end of April; it was way earlier than usual this year, but Easter wasn't usually this early either.

"Ocellotto and Phryne would love to meet their nephew too," the shitty cat purred. "Colocolo is their eldest, you know."

No, Squalo hadn't known. It did however explain a lot, including possibly how Bel had known of the existence of this particular Superbi in the first place. Unless he'd just gone looking for someone local who was ordained but not too wedded to tradition and been pleased by the serendipity of the additional connection to Boss.

At that moment however Mist-girl arrived in the room, all dressed up in borrowed finery with his aunt Giuliana, the Donna Superbi, smiling proudly behind her. Seeing Squalo, his aunt quickly cornered him while the other women present were complimenting Mist-girl on her dress.

"Squalo dearest, I'm arranging a family dinner on Easter day; a quiet affair, since Tigre always visits his wife's parents. Do let your Sky know he is very welcome; it will be just us, Leone's parents and Delfino and Anna, since Pantera is taking his daughter to his in-laws and Giaguaro is eating with friends."

"I'll tell him," Squalo agreed; whether Boss would go with it was very much in doubt, considering the pressures Don Vongola was currently bringing to bear, but it would also give his Sky an out from any potential invitations from the Iron Fort.

"Do remind him that he's welcome at any time, would you please? He is _family_ and that means having the right to stop by whenever without anybody making a big fuss," Aunt Giuliana added.

Squalo suspected that Boss _would_ take advantage that that particular offer sooner or later. "Yes, Auntie."

"Thank you Squalo, you're a good boy." She went up on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. "Now I must be off home; Leone and I are babysitting our adorable granddaughter so her parents can be here this evening and my husband has thus far had her all to himself."

With that she left, so Squalo turned his attention back to the rest of the room, where the sword-brat was now practicing his Sicilian with Pýř and the cousin he still couldn't quite place, while Mist-girl had been drawn into a conversation on classical literature. However this went, it was going to be a much less irritating experience that what Boss and Luss were going through at the Iron Fort with Chew Toy and the hangers-on, so he should try to relax and enjoy it a bit. This was after all a practice dinner, with nothing in particular at stake except the brats' dignity.

He could settle in and enjoy himself a little.

* * *

Easter was a welcome break; Xanxus did not actually follow up on any of the Superbi invitations, instead spending the time either in his workshop or on the farmstead. He'd been wound up tighter than a clockwork toy by Holy Friday and he'd hated the feeling; he'd spent half the day on the phone to Florrie, just trying to verbalise and pin down all the many, many things he was angry at the old fart about. He'd also made hot cross buns according to his Cloud's recipe and eaten the entire batch; they'd been delicious and comforting.

Actual Easter day he spent partly in the chapel, running the rosary Florrie's mother had given him through his fingers and listing inside his head all the things he was grateful for this year. It was a long list and took him several hours; he got to work through it entirely uninterrupted though, because it was a Rule that interrupting people in the chapel had to be _literal_ life-or-death. Pranks were also forbidden, because it was technically a Housekeeping space rather than a Varia space, so Xanxus passed a very pleasant morning.

Then there was lunch and a large number of egg-shaped pranks, as well as enough chocolate to make anybody feel queasy. Xanxus spent most of the afternoon in his workshop, building his prototype greyhound Box Weapon and adjusting the design as he went along. This was less of a combat box and more of a support one; intended for defence and therapeutic purposes rather than attack. Xanxus also had a long-distance secure communication application in mind, but that would take a bit more tweaking and a verification that Lightning Flames could be made to work that way; he'd have to talk to his men and see what they came up with first.

It being a defence-orientated Box Weapon, there was no point in having it require high levels of Flames to open; that would just limit the number of people able to use it, which was Dumb. It also being for therapy, the less Flames required to open it the better; it would be more discreet that way and not register as a threat. Xanxus was installing two separate settings –therapeutic and defensive– with the lower setting requiring about the same bare minimum of Flames as Florrie's Gwyn needed to emerge and the higher one taking about a quarter of what a regular Box Weapon took, but still using the energy conservation circuits he'd designed for the kodkod Box Weapon. That way there'd be almost no bleed-off and all the Flame energy inputted would be used to power it, rather than getting wasted in pretty light effects.

He didn't have any actual greyhounds yet, but earlier in the week he'd fitted in a visit to the re-homing charity Federico had patronised –the youngest of the old fart's actual sons had been a big fan of dog racing– and met a few. He'd specified that they were going to be therapy dogs, so they needed calm personalities, and showed them a Box Weapon –not Bester or Optima– to explain why it didn't matter if the dogs in question were sick or injured or old, and that they'd be in excellent health for a long, long time.

The shelter owners had thankfully turned out to be extremely pragmatic and, upon clarifying that the animal's personality was preserved, had introduced him to over a dozen different former racing dogs with the kind of physical needs that made re-homing them very tricky. Xanxus could tell that these dogs were expensive to care for and that while the charity wouldn't put them down while a certain quality of life could be maintained, getting these dogs out of the shelter would improve their ability to care for the many others they had and the more that would be arriving soon enough.

A Box Weapon rebuilt its animal's body based on its genome every time it emerged, so physical injuries were not preserved. It also preserved the animal's personality at the time of death, adding to it based on experiences after becoming a Box Weapon, which was deliberate so that they could learn attacks, but also meant that they'd make good therapy animals and there was less for an animal lover to get up in arms about. Bester's original body had suffered from a degenerative bone disease and he was visibly much happier now; Optima had been caught in a poacher's trap, less than half an hour dead but still in good enough condition for the transfer process to work.

Of course not _all_ the Box Weapons had been acquired like that, but the endangered charismatic ones had been; it was easier to get hold of dying animals than it was healthy ones. Luss's peacock on the other hand had been stolen from some rich twit's garden and Bel's ferret had been bought in a pet shop. They weren't the exact same animals as in the fake-future but they were close enough; Bester was the exception there, if much younger now than he had been when Xanxus fake-remembered first getting him. White ligers were rare and thus much more easily found by anybody who knew the history of the Box Animal, as the history had been pitched as one of the selling points. People kept track of exotic felines more than other animals, domestic or otherwise.

Xanxus was also never going to tell Raas that his mouse had been provided by one of the Varia cats the day before the trip to Argentina. Well, not unless he got a perfect setup moment at least.

Still, the greyhounds had been decent, for dogs. Calm, not too pushy and not loud either; that might have been because they were all sick and elderly, but Xanxus would take it. The shelter owner had called the dogs 'seventy-kilometre-an-hour couch potatoes' though, which implied they were happy to laze about all the time they weren't actually racing. He'd met greyhounds before –Federico had taken him along a couple of times– but it had been so long ago he hadn't been sure his memory of those events was reliable. Happily it had been; they'd make good therapy dogs.

For his Lightnings at least; he'd stick with his cats and Florrie for snuggling with himself.

* * *

Squalo was on Boss-backup duty again. Easter had been slightly over a week ago –ten days in fact– and today sword-brat and Mist-girl had been packed off back to Japan, so they had time to get ready for school starting up again. Don Vongola however was yet to release Chew Toy to do likewise; Squalo was getting the impression he had no intention of doing so at all. Which, well, trash _was_ sixteen, but education was still important.

The Rain Officer also got the impression that Chew Toy rather wanted to get back to school too, but lacked the confidence to take a stand. That wouldn't do him any good; a Don couldn't let himself be steamrolled just because he didn't want to offend people.

Sword-brat and Mist-girl had met a lot of people in the middle levels of the Vongola Alliance and a few of the upper-ranked people too; Heads of House and a good number of minor Dons, since they'd met the major ones last time. Gossip and unfortunate comparisons of Smokescreen's behaviour in contrast to his fellow Guardians were bound to already be circling, which would eventually get back to Nono –might have got to him before now if he hadn't been organising endless parties and leaning on Chew Toy ever other moment– and then things would get tricky. Don Vongola would certainly take it as Boss undermining him, might also take it as Chew Toy deceiving him and how things fell out from there would have a big impact on the future.

Which Boss knew, so Squalo was confident that his Sky already had a spin in mind. Rather more up in the air was the matter of faith; Boss clearly hadn't put much thought into that until recently, but going by his Sky's frown and muttering over breakfast every morning since Easter he was seriously grappling with it now.

Squalo didn't envy him that discussion; there had been revolutions over a leader being the wrong _kind_ of Christian, so the outcry at Chew Toy being an unbeliever was bound to be severe. Especially when trash was probably Shinto; that would get interpreted as 'pagan' by the more narrow-minded Dons.

Yes, Asari had probably been Shinto, but he'd been one Guardian; he'd also not been a major voice in policy decisions. Smokescreen was the only confirmed Catholic in Chew Toy's set –and he was probably lapsed– Rokudo could easily be ignorant of religious matters since he'd been raised as a test subject, Lambo was too young to have been more than baptised before leaving Sicily, likely not seeing inside a church since, and the other four would be Shinto as well; not good numbers if Don Vongola wanted to succeed in handing over leadership of a Family and Alliance founded on Catholic virtues, made up mainly of rigidly devout Catholics.

Forget the practical issues; _this_ was the hill the Alliance Dons would die on to keep Chew Toy from taking over. The irony.

A subtle flare of Flames caught the Rain Officer's attention and he pushed away from the wall, weaving through the milling people and arriving on the scene in time to twist Smokescreen's wrist almost to breaking point. "Drawing weapons against Family members at public events is forbidden, trash," he said flatly.

"Let me go!"

"You're a shitty disgrace, you know that?" Squalo continued, half his attention on Boss's deliberately even breathing and suppressed, simmering Flames. "Picking fights in public where Boss can't school you like you deserve without making the Family look weak; I don't know why your Sky puts up with such a liability." He gripped tightly enough to press on Smokescreen's tendons and pressure points, then let go; the Storm's hand hung limp, fingers spasming as he fumed.

"How dare–"

Squalo leaned in close with a bleak, sharp grin. "Voi, of course I dare; I'm _Vongola_. Your behaviour shames me by association; I have every right to call you to the carpet for acting like a spoiled child." Well he was Alliance, which counted enough in these circumstances.

"I'm not–"

"Picking fights with adults you don't like when you _know_ they can't retaliate in public without getting blamed, bringing explosives to a private Family event when you _know_ it's only blades that are permitted, expecting everybody to lick your boots because you've got a fancy title and they haven't," Squalo rattled off, knowing his words were clearly audible to the surrounding guests and not particularly caring how loud that might be; "tell me if I missed anything, please."

"Hurling abuse and slurs at senior family members," Boss added softly, his tone quiet but carrying, "slander and baseless accusations founded on prejudice, instantly resorting to violence when confronted with disagreement and refusal to consider the validity of any perspective save his own. With a Right Hand like this, Don Vongola's successor will not need enemies to tear the Family apart."

They had an audience now and Chew Toy was headed their way, Don Vongola following behind at a leisurely pace designed to obscure the fact he was too old to move any faster; Smokescreen had clearly noticed the spectators and was now scarlet with embarrassment.

"Ah, Squalo-san," Chew Toy said, orange sparking faintly in his eyes as he bowed apologetically in the proper Japanese style. "I apologise for Gokudera-kun; he gets over-enthusiastic sometimes." Still using Japanese honorifics in his Italian? Oh well, he could at least pass that off as an affectation. A harmless quirk to his speech patterns that made him more approachable; Squalo however knew that Chew Toy was likely to do eff-all after being approached by a person with a problem.

"You can't apologise for him," Squalo said bluntly; this was a major difference between the Christian concept of apologies and a non-religious one. "He's not sorry for insulting and slandering my Sky to his face; he's just angry he got called out on it. That's disgusting behaviour in somebody who's supposed to be learning to lead our Family; leaders are called to serve those who follow them." There, a nice clear biblical reference even Smokescreen should have learned in Sunday school before running away from home.

"Um, ah," Chew Toy stammered, clearly wrong-footed by the firm refusal of his apology as well as by the approving murmurs around them. Of course, Japanese manners didn't really allow for that, did they? It was all about smoothing over difficulties, not pinpointing and confronting them.

"The hypocrisy of Don Bianchi's mistress's brat calling me a bastard whoreson was also not appreciated," Boss drawled in the waiting hush. "Glass houses and stones, one feels."

There was a round of shocked titters and snickering; Smokescreen went redder, his Flames coiling in on themselves as he cringed in abject humiliation at the revelation of his illegitimacy in a public setting.

"That was unkind, Xanxus," Chew Toy said softly.

"I know," Boss replied bluntly. "I was also tempted to vaporise his head for accusing me of treason; be grateful I restrained myself."

Chew Toy instantly turned on Smokescreen. "Gokudera-kun!"

The Stupid parasite cringed in the face of his host's displeasure. "Tenth–"

"Gokudera-kun, _no_. Xanxus would _never_ ; he is too honourable and loves the Family too much for that."

"But Tenth he–!"

"That was a private matter between himself and his father, not to do with the Vongola at all," Chew Toy interrupted firmly, clearly divining exactly what Smokescreen intended to say. Which, not _entirely_ wrong, but referring to Don Vongola as Boss's father within his hearing hadn't been a smart move at all; Squalo felt his Sky's Flames retreat sharply and lock down hard.

Chew Toy was Japanese and culturally they looked at adoption differently to the mafia, where bloodlines really _did_ matter, but he'd also grown up basically without male role-models at all –fucking useless Iemitsu Sawada– and didn't know Boss had essentially been kidnapped. Chew Toy also had not grown up around Don Vongola's idea of what it meant to be a 'father,' so lacked the understanding to see the situation for what it really was.

The parasite hung his head. "My apologies, Tenth."

Chew Toy turned to Squalo expectantly. Squalo rather wanted to say that no, it wasn't enough because Smokescreen was _still_ only apologising for contradicting and embarrassing his Sky, but they were in public and had to maintain a show of unity. "Voi, I trust this won't happen again," he said lightly, letting his lips twitch up in another threatening grin. "Not all threats to the Vongola are external after all, and the Varia's duty is to dispatch such threats."

Smokescreen caught that; the red on his face faded patchily to white. Chew Toy just smiled blandly, eyes still orange.

"The Vongola is fortunate to have such diligent defenders, Squalo-san." He turned to Boss. "Xanxus?"

Boss stared unreadably at Chew Toy for several very long seconds. "I'm yet to hear this apology, trash," he said eventually.

Chew Toy turned to Smokescreen, who choked out a retraction of his slander. Boss paused again, but nodded.

"I accept your apology, trash; consider it forgiven, if not forgotten." Meaning that Boss wouldn't hold a grudge but would still keep this lapse in mind during future interactions, as well as in his assessments of Smokescreen's character.

The orange faded from Chew Toy's eyes as he blinked. "Er, aren't those the same thing?" he asked quietly as the attention of the guests started to drift away, the drama being over.

Boss smiled entirely humourlessly and Squalo suddenly _knew_ what was coming. "I know you're not Christian, trash, but everybody else here is; your Storm included. A bit of religious sensitivity would not go amiss."

Chaos.


	7. Chapter 7

I'm now on holiday and updating from my phone; hence the delay.

* * *

 **Pick up the pieces (and move on)**

This time Florrie would not be remotely surprised to find him in her flat when she got back from her classes, because he'd been calling her daily to vent –sometimes twice or thrice daily– and he'd not made a secret of the fact that as soon as Chew Toy was shipped back to Japan he'd be hiding out with her to de-stress for a week. Which wasn't _quite_ the order things had happened in, but here he was in England a fortnight after Easter, not expected to appear at any Vongola events for at _least_ a month, and that was what mattered.

Xanxus knew perfectly well when he arrived that he was already expected, because when he unlocked the door there was a clear plastic box on the dining table labelled 'EAT ME' and containing a thick wedge of simnel cake, the post-it held in place by a fork.

Not one to turn down cake, Xanxus followed the instructions provided. It was very tasty. Afterwards he felt a whole lot better, because by that point he'd spent ten minutes sprawled on the new and very large rust-coloured sofa that now ran the full length of the wall opposite the living room bookshelves, eating cake and brewing himself a pot of tea.

He'd ordered the sofa and it had been made exactly to his specifications by an artisan upholsterer; it was very comfortable and definitely an excellent investment. He could actually lie down on it.

After a while longer appreciating his Cloud's new sofa and enjoying the fact that there was nobody within a thousand kilometres of him who would expect him to be civil about the inevitability of his Family's collapse, Xanxus rolled off the sofa to poke about and see what had changed in the almost three months since he was last here. He'd noticed the ceiling in the front hall on his way in, now with a cleverly painted _trompe l'œil_ edge just inside the moulding to create the impression of the space being open to a cloudy sky. There were a range of shockingly realistic birds too, perched on the 'edge' of the moulding overhead, flying distantly in the blue and a few venturing lower, perched on top of the moulding around the doors. If Florrie had been in a painting mood for a while it was entirely possible that there would be other surprises scattered around the building and Xanxus wanted to find them all.

He found a pair of butterflies in the laundry, along with a black and white bird with a long thin upturned beak wading in a very convincing painted puddle through an apparent 'hole' in the wall just above the skirting board. There was also a little bird in shades of brown with a big glossy black beak perched on an oak branch visible through a painted 'window' in the wet room, a little black, grey and white bird with a tuft of the back of its head eyeballing everybody who came up the stairs to the first floor and a swift peering out of a 'hole' high in the wall on the attic landing.

Xanxus didn't believe for a moment this was all she had planned; there'd be a scavenger hunt of realistically painted wildlife all over the building by the time she was finished. He was sure he'd found all of the currently extant ones though, so he wandered out into the garden for a bit –major earthworks were still ongoing, but there were some flowers planted around the edges of the lawn now and a trio of spindly trees spaced out down the east side– and enjoyed the spring sunshine. There was also a birdfeeder hanging from a tree in clear view of his Cloud's bedroom window, which might explain where she'd got inspiration for the birds from.

By the time he'd sat outside for a little it was getting along for the time his friend's classes finished for the day, so Xanxus headed back inside and put on the kettle for another pot of tea. If he was going to talk Florrie's ear off grumbling some more about the old fart's _insistence_ that he toe the line and bend the knee and not _make trouble_ then he should at least have drinks ready when she got in.

* * *

"–and after abandoning the whole event as a lost cause and finishing early, the old fart had Visconti collar me on the way out and drag me back to his office so he could ream me out for 'undermining the Heir' and 'prejudice' and 'troublemaking' and a bunch of other ridiculous shit before telling me that he didn't want to see me for a month, which was what I wanted but still felt like him sending me to my room," Xanxus explained, sprawled on the couch with Florrie flopped on top of him. "Which was completely missing the point of why I worded what I said like I did, but the old fart's never cared about why I do things; he's always thought he knows that already."

"So why did you bring it up at a public event then?" Florrie asked.

Xanxus frowned thoughtfully; this was tricky to articulate. "I don't think he's any less of a person for not being Christian," he said slowly, "and really, I care more that he's incompetent than that he's not a believer. But." He took a breath. "But the Vongola is a _Family_ and was was founded by a Catholic, for Catholics, built on the foundation of theological and Catholic virtues. Which are not things that somebody who isn't Christian is going to consider to be relevant –never mind fundamental– in pursuing business. The point of the Vongola isn't to make money; it's to make life better for the people who _belong_ to the Vongola and others if we can. Which, yes, a whole lot of past Dons definitely lost track of at various points, but that doesn't mean that's not still what the Vongola _exists_ for. I was raised Catholic; I grew up with the virtues and how they're the foundation of the Christian lifestyle. Brat probably doesn't even know what they _are_." Faith, hope and love were the theological virtues; the Catholic virtues were chastity, temperance, charity, diligence, patience, kindness and humility. They admittedly did not see much representation in the day-to-day _business_ workings of the Vongola, but were still fundamental to its underpinnings and culture. It wasn't that hard to find them either; most people didn't even _think_ about them, they were that entrenched in the local culture.

"So you're concerned that he's going to misunderstand the _purpose_ of the Vongola, because he lacks cultural context," Florrie summarised.

"Yes, that," Xanxus agreed firmly. "I mean, it's not exactly anywhere near ideal and there's a lot of bad shit congealing in the system, but the Vongola _does_ make the Underworld a better place for Flame-Actives; through medical research, setting quality standards and so on, as well as creating places for Flame-Actives to work and live _outside_ of crime, even though it's still all technically Underworld because being a Flame-user _makes_ you Underworld." Because the Vindice said so and contesting their opinion there was frankly suicidal.

"So you feel he's looking at your culture from an external perspective, saying 'this is all terrible' and taking a colonial viewpoint that he has to change it and make it 'better,' where 'better' means 'more in line with his cultural expectations' rather than 'more efficient in achieving its intended purpose'."

"Yes. The old fart is determined to put him in charge and that makes it all worse, because he's never _lived_ in the system so doesn't know why it exists or all the ways it helps. Hell, he'll probably do away with the 'larger salaries for Flame-Actives' thing on the basis that it's favouritism, when that measure exists because Flame-Actives have more expenses –food, getting clothing treated, accidentally destroying shit, tailored medications– and are generally more at risk of injury and death, because we all run _towards_ danger. Not because we're reckless, but because we've got the skills and others don't." Because that was what being family _meant_. Taking care of one another and contributing your skills to the betterment of the whole. Flame-Actives were at the sharp end of Alliance work, doing things Latents literally _couldn't,_ and deserved to be rewarded accordingly for the risks they were taking on everybody else's behalf.

Florrie shifted, giving herself a better view of his face. "That's not your only concern," she noted.

Xanxus wrapped his arms around her waist and sighed. "Japanese people have a system where the longer you've worked for the company, the more you're paid, but the Vongola pays people according to their domestic situation, with bonuses for personal risk. So couples get individually paid slightly less than singles if they both work, parents get paid significantly more than a spouse or single without kids, more still if only one of them works or they are a single parent, older people whose kids have moved out get paid less than they did when their kids were teenagers and so on. We arrange housing like that too; small apartments are most heavily subsidised for singles and old people, larger apartments and houses near the Academy are most subsidised for people with kids –although Families generally own houses near the schools and rotate their people through them, but the system's there– and hours are more flexible for parents as well. Plus there are disability allowances –both for the people themselves and for their carers– and a lot of people work fewer hours than is standard, because there's no point keeping people in the office twiddling theit thumbs when they've done all their work. It's about _quality_ and really, there's a lot of important shit gets done out of the office, in people's nominal free time. Like Flame-training, for instance. If Chew Toy tries to instate the Japanese system where people are expected to spend more time in the office as proof of dedication to the 'cause' then the whole Family's going to collapse; that's not how it _works_. The Vongola's a community, not just a business. Well, network of businesses."

"Xanxus, can I ask some really annoying questions you won't like?"

The Sky tilted his head back to stare at the ceiling. "Ask."

"How much of this are you personally able to affect?"

He sighed. "None of it." That was the sticking point; as Varia Head, he had near-total control over the Varia. But the Varia was an independent division, so his control came at the cost of having no say in or influence over anything else.

"How much are you enjoying working for the Vongola right now?"

Xanxus closed his eyes briefly; what a fucking question. "Not much," he admitted quietly. "It's just tiresome. I mean, The Varia stuff's fine –great even– but the old fart's dragging me into the path of the oncoming disaster that is Chew Toy taking over and I don't even want to _look_ like I'm endorsing it. But he's making me do that, because he can order me to attend business events."

"You said it was the people you liked best about your job."

"Is."

Florrie took a careful breath. "Xanxus, those people won't stop being your friends if you change jobs."

Xanxus twitched. That he had not expected as an angle, but Florrie did live to surprise him. "Explain?" He wanted her reasoning there.

"Okay, um." Florrie sat up on his abdomen, most of her weight resting on her knees bracketing his torso. "Right. Theologically, work is very important; we were made to work, it's right there in Genesis. It sustains our souls and gives our lives direction; we all have things we're good at, which we feel good about pursuing. Not just paid work; anything that's creative or productive or socially constructive counts. Parenting's work, for instance. But just because work is important to our spiritual health, it doesn't mean that _any_ work will do; we're all different, made differently with different strengths. If you're doing a job that feeds your soul, as it were, you feel good about getting up in the morning and going to do it, even if it's physically tiring and mentally challenging. It doesn't have to be a paid thing; I know you feel that way about your forge stuff too."

True. He spent time in his workshop making things because it was productive and it did make him feel good about himself. The same as did baking and cooking, to be honest, but less so there. Food preparation was more therapeutic than creative.

"Some jobs don't really feed us, but they don't drag us down either; we just do them and it's kind of meh. They're a bit hard to focus on because of that sometimes, so they need to be punctuated with more uplifting activities. That's how I feel about weeding really; it needs doing so I do it, but doesn't uplift me like, say, painting."

Xanxus nodded to show that he was following the tangent.

"But there are jobs that tear us down and are just exhausting. They're not fun, we really hate them and they take so much emotional effort –or mental effort, or spiritual effort even– that after them we just need to go and lie down in a darkened room for hours to feel human again. They're draining. Maybe they wouldn't be for someone else, but they are for us. Or maybe they're just awful jobs and need redesigning to be more worker-friendly; whatever. But to me it sounds like your job was mostly things you really enjoyed, punctuated with indifferent stuff and a little bit of awful stuff every now and then, but now the awful stuff is kind of taking over and sucking all the fun out of the good bits. Which says it's time to get a new job, because you need to take care of yourself first. You won't do anybody any good running yourself into the ground in a job you're not enjoying anymore." Florrie bit her lip. "I have no idea how that would work for you, but those are my thoughts on the matter."

"You think I should retire."

"If that's what leaving your job entails, yes," his Cloud said firmly. "You're an adult, you have a great many transferable skills, I'm sure you know lots of people who are not under that shit's thumb and would be delighted to employ you, and based on what I've seen you spending in the day-to-day I'm sure you could go self-employed if you wanted and deal with start-up costs no problem. I'd like it if you left the Underworld but I recognise that's vanishingly unlikely, so I will happily settle for you getting a job where you no longer work for that abusive shithead who thinks non-stop gaslighting is appropriate parental and workplace behaviour."

This was something his Cloud felt _strongly_ about, he could tell by her tone and expression. And her Flames, which were tight and steady in a way that could be a precursor to Activation in a combat setting. Her suggestion was also something he'd never even considered. Leave the Varia? Hell, leave the _Vongola_? And do what exactly?

"I'll think about it," he conceded. After all, he was technically Cavallone so he could _theoretically_ leave the Vongola Alliance behind entirely. He wouldn't even have to swear any new oaths; he was horse's Heir and Heirs only swore to the Family, not to individuals. Yes, he'd sworn to the Vongola, but it could be argued those oaths had been taken under false pretences. Still, he'd _only_ sworn to the Family, not to the old fart, so there was plenty of wiggle room so long as he didn't directly hinder Alliance interests.

"Thank you," Florrie said, her relief palpable. "I made a stew yesterday, would you like some re-heated for dinner?"

"Sure." It was stew; stew was very resilient to reheating and Xanxus was happy to put an end to the talking for today.

"Let's have dinner then."

* * *

Xanxus spent the next week with Florrie, helping her get the rest of the garden landscaping arranged to her satisfaction and hiring a car so he could drive her –along with her mother on one of those trips– out to a range of garden centres to look at plants and make decisions. His friend had a notebook full of notes, scanned pages from university textbooks and a few science papers on permaculture and food pyramids that she was using as part of her garden planning, which really showed how much she was enjoying the university course she was still in her first year of. Xanxus didn't mind it at all; he got to see some of the surrounding countryside, there was always tea and cake to be had at all those various places and listening to his friend babble happily about plants and ecosystems and butterflies and bees made a nice change from challenging mental health discussions.

She was cute when she babbled. Her love for the subject was palpable and he was happy she had things that brought her to life like this.

Not everything Florrie wanted in her garden could be found in garden centres however, so on a few spring evenings he drove his friend out to do a spot of technical theft; admittedly nobody was going to miss daisies and clover dug up from parks, the mixed patches of wildflowers filched from a range of farmer's fields or the tree saplings transplanted from the nearby woodland, but that didn't make what they were doing legal.

It never stopped amusing Xanxus that for all her persistent discomfort with murder, Florrie had a much looser approach to crime generally.

He also spent some time wandering around the town on his own while she was at classes or working on her assignments, as well as doing some of the cooking so she didn't have to and helping with the laundry and cleaning. It was mundane, domestic and pleasantly restful after nearly three weeks of getting yanked around by the old fart; life with his Cloud was slow and all the more enjoyable for it.

On Friday afternoon Xanxus bought more ice cream ingredients –including a range of fun and different new foods to try flavouring it with– and after dinner settled in to use the Ice machine, experiment and cheerfully argue with his friend over which combinations tasted best as the radio played in the background.

"The date's really nice, but it's a bit too sweet to eat on its own; I've got walnuts, can we make date and walnut ice cream?"

"Why walnut?"

"Date and walnut is a traditional combination; remind me to bake you a date and walnut loaf sometime."

"Okay then. How was the black tea flavour?"

"Weird. I mean, really confusing to eat? It was sweet but strong and slightly astringent and it took some getting used to. It would be nice in really hot weather though."

"Dragon fruit ice cream or sorbet?"

"Try both? I mean, we're doing tiny pots and they're quite big fruit. I don't even know what dragon fruit tastes like, to be honest."

"Here try a bit of each."

"Wow, they're really different. This red one's pretty tart, but the white one's sweet."

"Different species; shark likes the sharp one."

"It is a bit more interesting, yes; are the seeds edible?"

"Yes."

"Hmm, nice too. Can we do one sorbet and one ice cream of each? I think the sharp sorbet would be refreshing but I'm also curious how it would contrast with the creaminess of the ice cream."

"Sure." Xanxus did so, pausing halfway through so they could whisk up each of the little portions, to make sure they didn't freeze solid. Florrie then stuck a freshly-washed teaspoon into each ramekin and started sampling them.

"Mm, the sweet one's a bit bland but the sharp one's nice. Prettier to look at too."

Xanxus tried them; she was right, the white pitaya was a bit boring –sweet but not much else, although the seeds added interest– but the tart red one was very nice. "Sorbet's better," he decided; "the cream smothers it."

Florrie made a note on the table she'd written up while he was getting things ready. "None of them are outright unpleasant though."

"No but not interesting either, other than the sharp sorbet."

"I suppose. Shall we do the date and walnut now?"

"Walnut separately first; not done much with nuts."

"Oh yes, we've got to grind them first; I'll do some more washing up while you're doing that."

Xanxus had just decided that walnut ice cream was surprisingly interesting, both on its own and when complemented with date ice cream –he was reluctant to mix flavours without trying them separately first– when Florrie's phone rang.

"Who's calling me at … it's half-past one in the morning? That late already?" She muttered, tugging off her rubber gloves and darting over to the side-table by the front door where her civilian phone always got left.

It was half-past one in the morning? Seriously? Where had the time gone? Xanxus glanced across the kitchen worktop at the stack of washed ramekins –many of which had been reused several times– and then at the line of packets and the chopping board and blender on the kitchen worktop, along with the little electric whisk intended for frothing milk. Okay, so maybe he did know. And there were… nearly thirty flavours and however-many-more combinations listed on Florrie's table? Oh wow, they'd really got into it.

"Yes, that's fine. No, of course. No, it's fine; come over." Xanxus stilled and turned around to stare at his Cloud. Who was she inviting over at no notice at half-past one in the morning?

Florrie hung up, set the phone down and rubbed her eyes. "Okay, suddenly I'm tired. "Xanxus, can we pack up for the evening? Well, morning technically."

"Who's coming over?"

"One of my friends was out drinking with a bunch of _her_ friends and one of them got very drunk and had to be rescued from a guy coming onto her," the Cloud said shortly. "I've agreed to put her up on the couch for the night, since she's in no fit state to walk home or take a bus."

Ah yes, Anglo Saxon campus life. So many terrible decisions.

"I've got a rubber sheet to fold over the sofa to protect it from vomit and so on and a regular spare sheet to go over that," Florrie continued in an undertone, mostly to herself, "but I'll have to borrow a duvet cover from the shared airing cupboard again; at this rate I may have to get my old one back."

"Not the first time?" Xanxus deduced, setting all the refrozen part-filled ramekins in the top drawer of Florrie's freezer and then putting everything lying around on the table back into the appropriate cupboards. The remains of the basic ice cream and sorbet mixes went in the fridge; they'd be fine there until the morning.

"No; it may well get more frequent as the weather gets nicer, too," his Cloud said absently, flicking off the radio then pulling out a wide, shallow wheeled box from under the sofa and taking a pair of folded sheets out of it. "Not that I _mind_ helping exactly, but there are a _lot_ of men I'd like to bash repeatedly over the head until they get it into their minds that this is _not_ acceptable behaviour. I mean yes, getting falling-down drunk in public _is_ stupid, but taking advantage of somebody who's done that is despicable and actively drugging somebody's drink so they _can't_ stop you is so much worse. I mean, how can _anybody_ think that 'oh she wouldn't have said yes to sex so I drugged her so she couldn't stop me' is anything other than completely disgusting behaviour? That's rape, it's not cool or funny and while I don't believe in murder, some strategic maiming and broken bones would do those people a _world_ of good. As might castration."

Xanxus did not disagree there. "Want me to stay out of sight?"

"No, I'd rather remind my friend that yes I _do_ have a social life despite not going out drinking at weekends," Florrie said dryly, tossing the smaller cushions over onto the armchair and folding the large waterproof sheet over the sofa upholstery. "Just so as it sticks in people's minds that crashing on my couch is for emergencies only."

Fair. "I'll fetch that duvet." The spare duvets and pillows were in a cupboard in the laundry room and the sheets and covers were, as Florrie had said, in the airing cupboards around the two water tanks on the first floor.

"Thanks Xanxus, you're a star."

Well this wasn't how he'd expected the evening to end and he wasn't exactly happy that his friend was putting up an unknown idiot civvie woman on the couch for the night, but it was her home and she seemed okay with it so he wouldn't attempt sabotage. Besides, he could see why she was doing it too and he was _very_ reluctant to give her the impression that he didn't think it was a good thing to be doing. Possibly not a safe thing –although nobody with ill-intentions would be able to get into the building, they could still come after her in the street later– but definitely a good thing.

Xanxus was smart enough to pick his battles and this one was not a good battle to pick. He'd just have to get used to the idea; it wasn't like this was out of character for his Cloud, after all.

* * *

Squalo did not get the impression that Don Vongola was surprised to hear that Boss was out of the country when the man called the Varia four days after the frankly disastrous party where it had come out that Chew Toy wasn't Catholic. Or even Christian. He also did not get the impression that Nono was calling about that.

No, the only thing that would have Don Vongola schedule _three_ meeting slots on successive Wednesdays –and politely request that he be informed if 'the Varia Head' was not back in the country by the morning of the first one so that he did not waste anybody's time– was him finding out that Boss had been introducing the sword-brat and Mist-girl to the Alliance.

The Rain Officer said all the appropriately polite things without offering so much as a hint that he was complicit in the Don's latest annoyance, hung up after Nono had got off the line and then texted his Sky. The man could decide for himself if he wanted to see Don Vongola Wednesday coming or put it off until the week after. Or possibly the week after that; Lightning Division were currently in a good patch and mission load was steady but not too high, so everybody was busy and Boss did not really need to be in the building when there was a Mist-box at the British safehouse to transfer paperwork through. Even though Mammon did charge for that; Boss could easily consider it a worthwhile expense.

* * *

Having been warned by the shark that the old fart had set up meeting slots for the next three successive Wednesdays, Xanxus decided that rather than heading home on the Monday he would stay another few days. There was a campaign winding through northern Europe that would arrive in Hull by ferry on Sunday evening and their mission in Britain should be all wrapped up by Wednesday, and the Varia plane was due at the local airport on Thursday morning to pick them up, so he could cadge a lift with them and save money.

Of course he had to check with Florrie that she was okay with him sticking around for another half-week, but her only caveat was that she was having a few people over on Tuesday afternoon for a study session –which she was hoping there'd be good enough weather for that they could sit out on the back terrace rather than have everybody in her flat– and that she was babysitting for a few hours on Monday and again on Wednesday, for a single parent friend who had exams. Two separate exams on the Wednesday, so the friend would be staying for lunch between them to eat and feed the baby.

"Will they mind my being here?" Xanxus was well aware that he'd made himself rather infamous among his Cloud's circle of friends and acquaintances –apparently they still referred to him as her 'serial killer not-boyfriend'– and it was entirely possible that the baby's mother wouldn't like the idea of him being within half a mile of her child, let alone the same building. "I can go somewhere else for the day." Like maybe tag along on that mission.

"I want you to be here," Florrie told him bluntly, "and if necessary I can assure Rosie that I'm prepared to throw the entire contents of my kitchen cupboards at your head and kick you out of the house if you even look like you _might_ hurt the baby. Which I know you won't do, but might calm her prejudices. She doesn't have to trust you after all; she just has to trust _me_."

Xanxus was well aware that if anybody _did_ look like they might hurt the baby Florrie probably _would_ do that, regardless of who that person was; the mental image of one of his Varia fleeing a storm of saucepans and soup tins after pushing boundaries was highly entertaining. However he should still make things easier for her if he could; if he was going through paperwork with his reading glasses on when Rosie arrived with her baby –gender unspecified; did Florrie know or even care?– he'd look a whole lot less intimidating.

Xanxus was actually hoping that he could stop wearing reading glasses for paperwork soon –his freckles were starting to fade, so the Denial he'd ingrained into his skin over the past few years was probably fully gone now– but that was Luss's call. He'd have to stop by the Sun's office on getting back to the Varia and ask. He'd noticed though that the glasses –and the freckles– did do a lot to get civilians to overlook the glaring scarlet of his eyes. Oddly enough, people seemed to look at the freckles first and then kind-of ignore his eye colour; when he was wearing glasses his eyes were more obvious, being framed, but people also seemed more inclined to not actually look at them. Maybe because they were paying more attention to the frames than his actual eye colour; either way, it made disguises much easier. He'd have to ask Luss what colour frames made his eyes more or less noticeable; he knew how basic black worked, but what about silver, or even bronze-coloured frames?

Shark had been right though; the freckles did apparently make him more approachable. He'd been randomly addressed in the street several times in various places, by people needing directions or wanting to sell him stuff. Which had used to happen sometimes, but not this often; clearly freckles _did_ make a difference.

He'd have to remember that for future disguises; faking freckles was easy.

* * *

Xanxus had tried to leave all interactions with the baby –baby Callum– to his Cloud, but she'd taken the washing to hang on the line outside around eleven – it had rained earlier but now it was just windy and cloudy; he'd learned that being cautiously optimistic about the weather where laundry was concerned was a very British habit– and the baby had promptly woken up and started whining.

Being the only person in the room, Xanxus had felt obliged to at least carry the basket outside to where Florrie could deal with the baby rather than just let the whimpering escalate, but when he'd walked into the infant's visual range Callum had instantly stopped fussing to stare at him.

Xanxus, feeling slightly self-conscious, had stuck his tongue out at the baby. Who had immediately beamed, arms waving and feet kicking in glee. Since taking the baby outside was clearly unnecessary, Xanxus had instead moved the basket over to the side of the sofa, so the baby could see him while he worked. The boy just wanted attention and not to be lonely; for all that the infant had slept half the morning away, he at least hadn't woken up hungry which Xanxus would have had no idea how to deal with. Paying the baby a bit of attention also wasn't the trial by fire changing his nappy would have been; he'd _definitely_ have left that to Florrie, he didn't even know where to _start._

Which had been fine for a while, making occasional eye-contact and pulling faces at the easily-amused infant, but then the waving had got more insistent and the whining had started up again and Xanxus had not needed his Flames to recognise that the boy wanted to be held.

Florrie had still been outside –she'd done a white wash and there'd been several sheets as well as a load of vests and tea towels– so the Varia Boss had brought to mind what little he knew about babies –mostly what he'd seen other people do– and carefully lifted Callum out of the basket, leaning the infant against his upper chest over his heart and holding him in place with one hand.

That had apparently been all the boy wanted; he settled in seconds and was soon snoring gently in Xanxus's ear. Being reluctant to move since he had no idea how lightly babies slept, Xanxus resettled himself so he was leaning back more and continued his paperwork one-handed.

Florrie eventually wandered back in, but since Xanxus didn't ask to be rescued she clearly assumed everything was fine so she didn't even comment on his cuddling the snoozing baby. Instead she put away the washing up, pulled out baking ingredients –presumably to there'd be food for the study session tomorrow– and started on a couple of tea breads and a cake.

Xanxus then got rather engrossed in his work –Information's latest report on Alliance business investments and money movement and how it tied in with Chew Toy's introduction was _interesting_ , sue him– and rather forgot that ignoring Latents on the fringes of his senses on the basis they were Housekeeping was only a valid strategy _inside_ Varia Headquarters.

A frisson of shock blended with lust and dismay brought him back to earth an undetermined amount of time later; he glanced sideways over his reading glasses to see Rosie –well Rosaline was what she'd introduced herself as– staring at him, her expression one he saw regularly on civilians of various genders and orientations. That was –as Luss had so eloquently put it once– 'oh fuck he's hot and _really_ scary, I'm terrified yet attracted.'

Callum snuffled and drooled some more on his shirt.

"He started fussing while Florrie was hanging out the laundry," Xanxus said, not entirely sure why he felt the urge to defend himself. "Then he fell asleep and I didn't want to move him."

Rosaline visibly pulled herself together and managed a smile. "Oh he sleeps like a rock; let me take him and I'll put him back in his basket."

"Think I'll manage," Xanxus countered, setting his paperwork aside so he could use both hands to carefully untangle Callum's fingers from his shirt and move the softly snorting baby back where he'd got him from. He then moved the basket up onto the far end of the sofa and turned his back, ostensibly to tidy up his work before lunch.

He ignored the rustling behind him and the distinct sense of amusement permeating his Cloud's Flames; she wasn't laughing at him. It was probably the whole situation that had amused her, Rosaline's misplaced unease and his own unexpected stint as a pillow included. Speaking of, he should change his shirt before sitting down to eat; the damp patch was cold now and it was irritating. Being out of the room would also give his friend a chance to talk to _her_ friend and chivvy the woman out of the building so they could eat in peace.

* * *

Watching Florrie with her friends when she was confident in her boundaries was rather interesting. It became clear pretty much immediately that she was terrible at keeping track of more than one person at a time in a conversation she was participating in, but could just about manage to talk to two people at once and listen to their contributions. More than two and she either dominated the conversation, slipping into a monologue, or stopped talking almost entirely in favour of tracking what everybody else was saying, dipping in and out at specific points.

She was however the group's best note-taker, hands-down, even when the conversation rambled quickly and all over the place. She was also good at reminding the group of what their actual study goals were when they get sidelined, which was probably a function of being the person taking the most notes.

Technically Xanxus was spying on them; it had turned out nice so Florrie had set up the food and drinks on the heavy-duty enamelled garden table on the terrace –he had no idea where that had come from as he hadn't bought it and Florrie couldn't afford it; salvaged from a dumpster maybe?– and brought outside a bunch of folding plastic chairs. None of the guests had even seen the door of the flat since she'd opened the gate that led around the side of the house past the garage to the garden, and there was a decent toilet and wash room inside the outbuilding that had been repurposed as a field surgery –not that you could tell that was what it was for when everything was in lockers– so his Cloud didn't even have to let them inside for that.

It was a very Cloudy way to have guests over. Florrie had invited Xanxus to share the food, but he'd declined and claimed he wanted to try out some of his new designs in the safehouse's workshop. Which he did intend to do; he was just watching his friend with her friends first.

Seeing them interact, it was pretty clear that Florrie didn't quite realise that her intense focus on only one person at a time could be perceived as flirting, or that at least one of the guys present was trying to flirt back. Xanxus quietly resolved _not_ to tell her; it would either annoy her or make her self-conscious and neither was a good option. If the guy attempting to flirt decided to bite the bullet and outright _ask_ Florrie to date him then she could make a decision then, but if he couldn't work up the courage then he didn't deserve help.

Besides, flirting was intensely cultural and Florrie had spent half her teens outside Britain; it was entirely possible that this wasn't outright obliviousness he was seeing. If she had certain expectations of what flirting looked like and this didn't meet them, then her reduced emotional sensitivity wouldn't let her bridge the gap and realise that this too counted.

Well, she might notice and adapt in time, but right now it was clear that she was just really enjoying the subject matter and her delight had very little to do with the person she was actually talking _to_.

It was, Xanxus had to admit, both amusing and rather cute. Florrie might agree to a few dates, but she was vanishingly unlikely to agree to the kind of relationship that guy was probably interested in; namely a sexual relationship. In the 'when pigs fly' kind of ballpark, really, which meant that until her peers were a bit more mature, he was equally unlikely to have to share her time with anybody other than her family.

Which, selfish or not, Xanxus was rather glad of.

* * *

Boss had not gone to the arranged meeting with Don Vongola alone; Squalo and Bel had been dragged along too. Given the likely subject matter, Squalo had not been too surprised; Bel had mostly been sniffy about it having taken Nono this long to notice and the old man's chosen reaction. According to the Storm Officer the most politic way out of this mess would have been for Nono to act as though he'd known about this all along, adjust his future plans accordingly and let Boss continue to shoulder the workload he'd taken upon himself. Well, dumped on Squalo actually, but it had been Boss's choice to interfere there. Letting it lie made it look like this had been part of Nono's plans and he could have used it to smoke out potential discontent in the Alliance by chatting to the brats and listening to how their take differed from Chew Toy's and Smokescreen's. Sensible, practical and effective in that timeless divide-and-conquer fashion.

But instead Don Vongola was going to be all-but-shouting that Boss had succeeded in going behind his back for an entire _year_ and that he was now attempting to close the stable door when the horse had long since bolted. Squalo agreed with Bel's perspective there, but it wasn't like they could tell Nono he was doing it wrong –as merely Xanxus's Guardians they didn't have the rank and pull to prompt Nono to take them seriously as he would his fellow Dons– so they just had to deal with things.

Squalo hadn't been expecting Chew Toy to be present though, much less without his hanger-on.

"Erm, two Guardians, Xanxus?"

The Rain Officer pondered why it was that Chew Toy never used honorifics for Boss yet did for just about everybody else, himself included for all that 'Squalo-san' was odd considering how finicky the Japanese were about using first names. Unless he thought it was a codename or surname, seeing as most parents wouldn't _actually_ name their child 'shark'? If confronted on the subject trash would probably go red with embarrassment and try to rectify it, since it didn't seem like a conscious choice. An Instinct thing then? It would make sense; Boss would consider honorifics from Chew Toy as an insult, the wimpy teenager might refer to Nono as Boss's father but was smart enough not to address Boss with the surname 'Vongola' and probably didn't know that 'Boss' was the man's Varia Name. Which left calling Boss 'Xanxus' as the safest option, and that was what Chew Toy actually did.

"Old fart got Guardians with him, trash?" Boss drawled.

"Well, yes?"

"Why should I be at a disadvantage then?"

Chew Toy subsided, looking slightly baffled by the tacit declaration that Boss and Don Vongola were at odds. Trash really was wilfully blind. He could not _possibly_ have avoided noticing the tension at all the shitty parties otherwise.

"Not brought your yappy dog?" Bel asked provocatively. Chew Toy stiffened.

"Gokudera-kun is learning from Nougat-san," he said firmly, "and there's no need to be rude, Storm Officer."

Bel smirked. "Knew who I meant though, didn't you?"

Chew Toy winced; evidently he'd already noticed that Smokescreen's slavish eagerness to please was distinctly dog-like, to walk into that the way he had. Boss however was clearly bored of standing around and pushed past Chew Toy to walk into the meeting room, Squalo and Bel falling in behind and Chew Toy having to scurry in after them, closing the door and crossing the room to sit next to Don Vongola.

Nono's Guardians present were Nie and Visconti; one to keep him from feeling pain and the other to provide additional details of what Boss had been getting up to. Well, technically what Squalo had been getting up to on Boss's orders.

Interesting that Nono hadn't wanted Smokescreen here though; that said he didn't trust his Heir's Right Hand to exercise appropriate discretion. Which was the right call, but kind of hypocritical when Smokescreen was still being allowed to go on calling himself Right Hand _despite_ that major failing. Speaking of, why were the trash still here? Their new school year had started up last week. That was why the sword-brat and Mist-girl had gone back at the beginning of the month.

"I believe Tsunayoshi deserves an explanation of why you have been going behind his back with two of his Guardians, Xanxus," Don Vongola said coolly.

Boss leaned forwards, resting his elbows on the back of the dining chair that he'd probably been expected to sit in, face a study of mild surprise. "They didn't tell him what they were doing? I wonder why."

Chew Toy's Flames wavered; Squalo had no trouble at all reading off them that the trash would have tried to dissuade the sword-brat and Mist-girl from getting involved if he'd known they wanted to. Trash really had no clue at all, did he? Wanted to keep his friends out of the line of fire because he had shit self-image so valued them higher than himself, not realising that friendship was supposed to be an equal relationship between mutually supportive individuals and that not letting the brats get involved made them feel like _he_ didn't want _them_ as his friends. Which was why they hadn't told him; they hadn't wanted to give him a chance to push them away.

Stupid twit. You'd think that after a few years of being friends with people he'd have picked up on some of the unwritten rules there; he'd got the 'have fun with them' part right but had clearly missed the balanced give-and-take part of the relationship that went with it. Never mind that being Flame-Active, the brats _couldn't_ escape the Underworld now.

"Why did you conspire to introduce my Heir's Rain Guardian and cadet Mist Guardian to the Alliance without permission, Xanxus?"

Cadet Mist? As in support to Rukudo? Rukudo and Chew Toy might have a bond of some sort, but the Mist-girl was the one who had stepped into the role and duties required of the Mist Guardian; Rukudo didn't want much of anything to do with the mafia, much less the Vongola, and Mist-girl doing the work was his way of eeling out of working for the Vongola –and thus the mafia– despite expectations and maintaining his autonomy and distance, if only physically.

Boss blinked lazily. "Had permission; they asked. Heir's Guardians that are not sworn to the Family are not bound to alert the Don to their comings and goings; they serve their Sky's interests first, so have leeway to act freely on said Sky's behalf. Making a good impression on Dons, Heads of House and other prominent individuals is in your Heir's best interests." He glanced at Chew Toy. "Unless of course your Heir would rather his Guardians personally swear themselves to the Vongola and thus be compelled to follow his orders to the letter, both in action and inaction? Bring them to heel?"

"No!" Chew Toy blurted out, clearly visualising how badly Cloud-brat would take that suggestion. "My Guardians are their own people; they make their own choices."

"Which they have been doing; I have merely provided those interested in their Sky's inheritance with relevant information, a safety net and opportunities to meet people," Boss concluded. "Was that all, Don Vongola?"

Nono clearly wasn't pleased with Chew Toy's interjection undermining his attempt to tear down Boss's decisions, but he had to roll with it because Chew Toy was the supposed victim here and trash had just decided there'd been no actual offense committed against him. "I believe you also owe Tsunayoshi an apology for undermining him in public two weeks ago."

Boss raised a confrontational eyebrow. "Suggesting he exercise a little religious sensitivity is undermining him?" Oh, so Boss was feeling petty now and trying to get Nono to dig himself into a hole. Which… might work, maybe? It depended on how much age had blunted the man's edge. Ten years ago Nono Vongola had still been fit for his position; not in his prime perhaps, but still capable of complex political subtleties. Nowadays he lacked both subtlety and patience. He'd never had much in the way of empathy, but once upon a time he'd been able to fake that convincingly too.

"You were well aware that those listening believed that Tsunayoshi shared his father's faith," Visconti said flatly, intervening on his Sky's behalf, "and that the revelation otherwise would cause trouble if released in an uncontrolled manner. Had you truly been concerned for the boy you would have spoken of it privately."

Boss hummed. "Expected Smoking Bomb to have mentioned it well before now, to be honest," he said calmly, opening a hand to gesture absently. "Not like Catholicism doesn't permeate our culture on every level, affecting and informing everything we do and think and say. Or for Reborn to have addressed it, maybe; Giotto's faith played very heavily into _why_ he founded the Family, after all. So four years on, well," he glanced briefly at Chew Toy, lips curling up in a rather unpleasant smirk as his eyes slid back to Don Vongola, "I had to wonder if it'd get addressed at all if I didn't speak up in public. After all, you let it slide this long, old man."

That was actually the real sticking point, Squalo knew; Boss was genuinely displeased that Don Vongola hadn't bothered to so much as _mention_ how fundamental the Catholic faith was to the Vongola's foundation and founding; like having a _priest_ among Primo's Guardians wasn't evidence enough. Squalo's Sky had learned that as a kid –part of his earliest lessons on the Family–and Chew Toy didn't have a clue after _four years_ of dedicated tutoring? The hell was Nono playing at there?

Don Vongola didn't try to parry the accusation, which led Squalo to suspect that he hadn't known either; probably believed that Chew Toy shared his father's faith because of course he would, never mind that that Iemitsu the idiot barely took any time off at all, so couldn't _possibly_ have spent enough time with his son to talk about things like faith. Hell, did the man's _wife_ even know he was Catholic? Probably not; she'd raised their son Shinto after all. He might not even have married her in proper Catholic fashion, since the Catholic wedding ceremony including promising to raise any children born to the union in the faith and so on. Maybe something to look into, as a political cherry on the top of the shit cake that was Iemitsu in charge of the CEDEF now that Lal Mirch wasn't running herd on him anymore.

"It was still tremendously insensitive, Xanxus."

"It offends my sensibilities. The Vongola was founded on Catholic principles; how can he uphold them if he doesn't even know what they _are_?" Boss demanded passionately, straightening up. "How can they guide his decisions if he doesn't believe that they are fundamental for living well?"

Don Vongola leaned back slightly, looking like he'd put his foot down expecting a damp squib and found a landmine instead. What, he'd thought Boss didn't truly believe? More fool him; Squalo's Sky might not have held with all the pomp and pageantry the Catholic Church went into but he'd read the bible –in the original Hebrew, first-century Greek and Aramaic even– and was deeply committed to his faith. More so than ever these days; Florrie had helped him get his head on straight partly through her own commitment to scripture. Admittedly from translation, but it wasn't hard to find accurate annotated translations of the originals these days and there were some good ones commercially available, especially in English.

Chew Toy also looked surprised, in a way that indicated he'd not considered Boss might be a person of faith at all. What, he'd thought assassins were all godless atheists? More fool him; the vast majority of the Varia followed one faith or other and while some had been atheists when they joined, those who were still that upon retiring were _very_ few and far between. The Varia was no place for people who couldn't recognise truth and the truth was, the world had so much about it that was inexplicable that really, why _not_ a higher power of some kind? The Varia had so many stories about weird coincidences and last-minute convenient happenstances that they couldn't all be down to chance; it was too unlikely. Some might never officially convert to whatever religion due to not liking the rules or the pageantry, but that did not mean that they didn't _believe_.

"I do not believe this is an argument that will get us anywhere," Nono decided, getting to his feet. "I have invited Takeshi Yamamoto and Chome Dokuro to continue their integration into the Family in June and they have accepted" –Chew Toy clearly hadn't known that, going by his wide-eyed shock and not-so-subtle horror– "and Tsunayoshi has graciously agreed to allow a few priests to instruct him in the basics of the Catholic faith, so that he can make an informed decision. I will see you again in Quiet Week, my son."

Boss immediately turned away, striding for the door; Squalo and Bel fell in behind him and followed their Sky out of the building to the waiting car.

"That will not be the end of it," Bel predicted confidently as Squalo settled into the driver's seat and put the car into gear; in line with Squalo's own suspicions there. "The old peasant was thwarted in censuring Boss twice over and will not let it slide; his pride will not allow it. There will be trouble in Quiet Week."

"Burn that bridge when we get to it," Boss said shortly, leaning his seat right back and closing his eyes.

That wasn't how the saying went, but Squalo suspected this version was more Varia-accurate.

* * *

"So how is he really?" Squalo asked once Boss had gone back to his office after yet another twenty-minute-long session in Medical; that made three this week.

Luss side-eyed him archly. "You don't mean his eye, do you Squ-chan? Which is much better and may possibly make a full recovery, incidentally; not guaranteed, unfortunately, but possible. More likely that his peripheral vision's going to remain spotty, but he's working around that very well already so it's unlikely to be a problem. His irises being red isn't actually albinism; it's an unusual pigment mutation, so there are no underlying light sensitivity issues to aggravate matters."

No, Squalo did not mean the eye, although it was good to hear how much better that was. He meant Boss's health generally. So he waited for the Sun Officer to continue, which Luss did very promptly:

"You heard about the coffee incident?"

"Yeah." Everybody had heard about that; Boss had taken it in surprisingly good humour but the sheer inventive horror of the punishment he'd nonetheless inflicted on the perpetrators made everybody wary of bringing it up.

"It would never have happened two years ago," the Sun said lightly. "Boss was wound much tighter back then; hypervigilance, you know. He trusts more now, even when he's not with his Guardians."

That was very good; hypervigilance was exhausting and unhealthy to maintain for any length of time. Squalo had known his Sky was more relaxed and open around him these days, but hadn't realised how deep or how far that change went. He would have had to ask other people about that after all, and it wasn't exactly something he wanted to draw attention to.

"He's working through his frustrations more effectively now as well," Lussuria continued, making eye-contact with a knowing flutter of his eyelashes, "and managing to actually let go of things rather than just setting them aside for later. Much healthier coping mechanisms all around really; he's even letting me treat him nowadays, rather than just having me diagnose then self-medicating whenever possible."

That Squalo hadn't known; well, not the full details as he'd known Luss was helping Boss with his eye but this implied their Sky was finally addressing some of the deeper medication-related issues Squalo had noticed but not felt qualified to comment on. It was good to hear.

"He's doing extremely well, Squ," the Sun assured him with a smile, leaning over to pat his shoulder. "Not going to run himself into the ground at all or ever, so long as he keeps this up."

Trust Luss to answer the question Squalo had never dared _articulate_ , let alone ask. The Rain Officer nodded sharply past the relieved lump in his throat and made himself scarce; ever since Boss had come out of the ice Squalo had worried about how angry his Sky was. Adulthood had taught him that anger like that just wasn't sustainable or healthy but Xanxus had burned and boiled and raged and Squalo had done his best to smother that little voice of concern because his Sky wouldn't have appreciated it. But now he could put the worry to rest and recognise that yes, it _had_ been pretty bad, but it was better now. Boss was better and still improving all the time. Still angry, but not so self-destructively and not to the exclusion of all else; he was living too.

Squalo felt so relieved by the change it was like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders; this would be a good time to practice sword forms.

It would help him process.

* * *

Xanxus's first time sitting down with relatives on his mother's side of the family had been a few days before the meeting with the old fart: he'd spent several hours with his grandmother's older sister's children, who were all in their late thirties and forties, and who had brought him a comprehensive family tree so he could see how everybody was related as they chattered about their mother and his grandmother and what they remembered of his mother as a child and a teenager. It had been… nice. Very low-key and laid back. Ghepardo was living basically civilian and his wife was a Velato who was doing likewise –not actually a Mist but a Mist-secondary with rather small reserves, unlike most of the other Velato he'd met who ran the Mist-security at the Iron Fort– Puma was married to a history teacher at the Academy and made two-thirds of a living from the orchard she'd inherited from their parents and Guigna was a sports coach and a lesbian. A very happy lesbian living with a partner she adored –whose name was Delilah– and who was definitely the 'cool aunt' to her various nieces and nephews.

His uncle and older aunt had also talked about their respective kids a little; they were all under twenty and the youngest –Ghepardo's son Leopardo– was eleven, so most of the stories were school anecdotes, extra-curricular achievements or amusing childhood mishaps. It had been a really enjoyable afternoon.

His second encounter with maternal relatives was after the meeting and a bit more chaotic, as he'd been invited to visit his great-uncle Ocellotto Superbi, who was his grandmother's ten-months-older brother and somewhat… extra. Despite being nearly seventy.

"So you're my nephew! Look at you, so tall! I'm delighted to meet you, dear boy!"

Gold suits and garish print shirts worn unironically said quite a bit about a person really.

"And this is the love of my life, Phryne; isn't she marvellous?"

Phryne Esposito was Ocellotto Superbi's lifelong partner –they'd never married– and the mother of his three sons. She apparently favoured nineteen-fifties versions of nineteen-twenties flapper dresses at all times of the day, which was an interesting look on a woman of her age. The bulletproof shameless confidence helped her carry it off though.

"Well aren't you a charmer," she told him with a beaming smile as he shook her hand. "With your Grandma Volpe's eyes too; amazing woman, she was. A shame you never got to meet her, she'd have loved you. Probably would have punched that scoundrel father of yours on the nose too, for playing poor Maddalena like that." She sighed, then brightened. "Oh, I have photos of your mother dressing up in my clothes, you know; Sara used to bring her and Maria over when they were little, when she wanted a spot of peace and quiet at home –she let her boys run wild all over the neighbourhood but not the girls– and they'd play princesses in my wardrobe. Come sit down and have a drink and I'll get them."

Xanxus sat, accepted the glass of iced water and waited. At one point in his life he'd thought _any_ pictures of his mother would be better than no pictures, but now he knew better. These would be cute childhood pictures though, far, far more palatable than the prints shoved in the back of his safe –where else _could_ he put them– that he couldn't quite bring himself to burn because they were all he had. If he could get copies of _these_ pictures though –and of any others his aunts and uncles might have– then he might be able to face getting rid of Andrea Cavallone's blackmail porn.

That would be wonderful.

* * *

Luss had already been consulted and was fully on board with the 'therapy dog' idea, so once Xanxus had them sorted out he just had to walk the five Medical-trained Varia his Sun had selected –two Lightnings, three Suns– through the energy requirements. It was the work of a moment really; the dogs were already trained to run on cue and had obedience training so responded appropriately to 'sit,' 'stay' and so on, and since they weren't intended for combat there was very little need for side-by-side training.

The main problem seemed to be that the dogs looked fairly similar and the newly-established quintet of therapy handlers wanted them to be clearly distinguishable at a glance so that their patients could be certain they were seeing the 'right' dog, for emotional continuity. Xanxus didn't think they looked particularly similar –yes, three of them were white with coloured patches, but the patches were different colours and differently placed on each dog and the other two were fawn and grey respectively– but he did have another few Box Frames lined up for the messenger dogs –and dogs to go in them lined up too– and those dogs did need to be clearly distinguished from the therapy dogs as well. Racing jackets would work there, probably.

"Why orange?"

"I like orange," Varoke said stubbornly. "I don't see why everything has to be green, just because I'm a Lightning. The Clouds wear all the colours they like and nobody says they shouldn't."

"Yours can be orange then," Fal said easily. "Patterned or plain?"

Varoke bit his lower lip absently as his eyes briefly went blank. "Patterned, please. In light and dark orange. Houndstooth maybe?" Houndstooth was a very punny pattern for a dog jumper really.

"Sounds good," the Sun agreed, making a note. "It'll be very striking."

So far the committee seemed to favour knitted doggy sweaters in different cheery colours for their new therapy dogs. Xanxus left them to it; it was whatever they wanted and whatever the dogs went along with. As Box Animals the greyhounds would be less prone to injury, but they still needed to be properly cared for if they were out and about a lot and the breed's lack of undercoat meant they developed sores if they slept on hard surfaces. They'd mostly be sleeping on beds in Medical, being therapy dogs, but clothing would also help them avoid getting cold, which greyhounds were also prone to.

The Varia's cats would be able to smell that the therapy dogs weren't 'real' so would hopefully not take offense to them, but Medical was an area they generally avoided anyway so it should be fine regardless. Greyhounds were inoffensive as dogs went, although their prey drive was bound to get them into trouble now and then; they did like to chase things.

He should get some photos of the dogs once sweaters were agreed upon and acquired; Florrie would think it was funny.

* * *

"Could have mentioned how busy the place gets, shark."

Squalo glanced at his Sky across the literal closet they were hiding in, Flames smothered to nothing and physical presence dampened. Well, that they'd ducked into to avoid a two-dozen-strong pack of very loud cousins drifting down the hallway; the main building on the Superbi Estate was _heaving_ with people now that the Family Reunion was ongoing and the grounds were full of kids running every-which-way and young adults competing in a range of sports and other variously Dumb contests. The older adults were filling up parlours and sitting rooms and music rooms and libraries and games' rooms, chatting and catching up on what everybody else had been doing this past year.

Xanxus had managed about three hours of chaotic interactions and responding to friendly advances from absolutely everybody before starting to actively avoid people; Squalo was impressed he'd lasted that long. They'd definitely have to bring Luss tomorrow, to act as distraction and secondary line of defence.

"Thought it was obvious, voi," he admitted; "the extended family's huge and with everybody in the same place the entire city's a complete zoo." Literally, considering the Superbi favoured animal names almost exclusively. More figuratively when stretched to encompass all those employed on Superbi ships who were currently enjoying shore leave, plus the usual bustle of a port city and all the enterprising business owners making a mint off everybody swarming the region and coming in for the smaller festivities planned city-wide; the Superbi even got a fair share of the profits without stooping to something as obnoxious and tacky as racketeering; that kind of overt exploitation would only hurt their local reputation as a mostly-respectable if rather quirky local family who kept the worst of the criminal element out of the Golfo. Print a pretty booklet listing local businesses and events to hand out to incoming people, charge for it and call it an advertising fee; easy as pie and legal besides.

"Strategy?" Squalo's Sky demanded, a tight undercurrent giving away that the ongoing situation was _not_ something Xanxus was comfortable with. Probably the lack of structure; Xanxus liked to know what was going on, who was around him and to be able to plan both his interactions and his movements. Which wasn't possible with over five-hundred Superbi he'd never met knocking about in the main estate alone; hence the expectation that Squalo come up with a plan, since he was more familiar with the terrain.

"Several options," Squalo said after a pause to consider the possibilities. "One, we track down one of the Family's Skies; there's at least three Actives, a handful or so more Latents and they've all got Guardians, so you could talk shop and find out how the Family does Skies and let their Guardians keep people at bay." That was a good option and had a lot of potential, although it also meant meeting more new people.

"Two, we hunt down one or other of your aging relatives and tell them you're feeling overwhelmed, can you hide, and they'll say yes and chase the busybodies off, but you'll get plied with cake and drinks and have to listen to whatever they're talking about with their gossipy friends." That also had potential; however it very much depended on how willing Xanxus was to admit his limits. Stress knocked his Sky's decision-making a little off-kilter, especially since he would have to admit to a vulnerability in front of virtual strangers.

"Three, we go find Pantera and my grandpa and spectate while they mediate various disputes; anybody's allowed to watch, but most people don't because it's tedious and emotionally fraught and frequently petty."

"That one," Xanxus decided before Squalo could offer option four, which was to grab a few people his Sky _did_ know and head out into town to find a bar to chat in and take a breather, maybe even do a few hours with the people running security or extracting whoever from the local drunk tanks; learning about the systems in place and doing something familiar-ish would be grounding.

"Okay then," the Rain agreed with a shrug; if that was what Xanxus was in the mood for, sure. "That's down in the main hall; we'd be better off taking a back staircase and then cutting through the domestic quarters." Everybody in the building was a Superbi, the household staff included, so there'd be visitors there too, helping out with the food preparation and delivering messages and running around with first aid kits patching up idiots and reckless children.

"Lead on, _kasusame_."

"Voooi! Don't call me that!" It was a god-awful bilingual pun, a compliment disguised as an insult and it made Squalo twitch every time his Sky used it because hell no, he was _not_ an angel! Not by _any_ stretch of the imagination!

"We moving?" Xanxus drawled, not responding in any way to the complaint. Well, of course he wouldn't; he was fucking with Squalo, again. And he would _definitely_ be using that nickname again; fucking damn it.

Hopefully not in front of Grandpa or the smug cat though.

* * *

"So, long day?" Pantera commented once 'family court' –as it got called by those who'd never felt the need to resort to mediation to resolve their disputes– closed for the evening.

"Loud," Xanxus drawled pointedly, not looking up from his notebook. Squalo hadn't even known his Sky had brought a notebook and pen with him, but they'd come out once Xanxus had found a chair and the Sky had buried himself in plotting out Flame circuitry, mostly ignoring the cases being presented to the Superbi Heir and his fellow adjudicators.

He'd spoken up exactly once, to snort and declare that one particular party was _lying_. The Sky had then pointedly returned to his sketching, leaving everybody else to deal with the fallout of his assertion. That case had taken a turn for the challengingly convoluted, but it had been wrapped up in a manner that left most parties involved satisfied so there was that.

"So it is," Pantera agreed, stretching. "Shall we adjourn to somewhere more comfortable for a round of aperitifs before dinner? I could do with a drink."

"I am going to find my grandchildren and remind myself why I bother to come to these things at all," Nyala Superbi said crisply, smoothing down the skirt of her sundress and picking up her handbag. "Sometimes I just want to bang heads together; really, such _ridiculous_ grievances!" She left the room, impeccably curled grey hair bouncing lightly with every swift step. Testudo had already left, probably intending to locate his own children and find out what they'd been getting up to while he was busy. Admittedly the man had cause for concern there; Squalo quickly repressed the incident which instantly sprang to mind. No, he'd forgotten that for a _reason_ and didn't want to revisit all the reasons why he knew Testudo's pack of nominally-adult offspring were a complete _nightmare._

"I believe I will go and see what my sisters have been doing in my absence," Lucciola said quietly, putting her knitting away and manoeuvring her wheelchair around the table all the adjudicators had been sitting behind. "Today has been _most_ tiresome." She was the youngest of the adjudicators, younger even than Pantera, and this was apparently her first time as a full representative rather than just an observer.

Adjudicators were picked from each of the Superbi branch families, plus a representative for the main family and the Don or Don's representative; Testudo was currently representing the reptile branch, Lucciola the insect branch, Allodola the avian branch, Nyala the mammal branch –who were more a conglomerate of offshoots of the main family than a truly separate line, but were both numerous and distinct enough to merit their own representative– Urso the main family and Delfino the recently-established marine branch. Pantera was standing in for Don Leone, which rather confirmed Squalo's suspicion that the cat would be taking over for his father in the next year or so.

"The first day always is," Delfino agreed wryly. "I will join you for that drink, nephew; Urso, Allodola, will you be coming along too?"

Allodola shook her head but Uso nodded. "Just briefly, Delfino; I want to talk to Anna about a few things as well."

"I'm sure she'd be happy to join us," Pantera pointed out. "Will you be joining us, cousins?"

Squalo glanced at Xanxus, who finally pocketed his notebook and got to his feet. "Sure," the Rain agreed; if his Sky was up for it then why not? Kitty was bound to be nosy –he'd not actually met Xanxus as family before now– but if his Sky was up for it then Squalo could deal.

* * *

"Have Donnola, Martora or Visone found you yet?"

Xanxus glanced at Urso, who'd introduced himself as 'Volpe was my aunt, she and my mother got together after their husbands died in the War and raised us all together.' "Maybe?" He conceded warily; he'd talked to a _lot_ of Superbi before taking refuge in the family court and while he'd probably be able to get names straight once he'd taken the time to sort through the memories, right now everything was jumbled together and tangled up with a range of emotional extremes. He'd not expected to be welcomed like this. That usually did not happen to mafia bastards –or even regular civvie ones– and knowing that the Superbi were said not to care whether or not a child was conceived in wedlock was one thing, but experiencing it as an adult was another matter entirely.

The surprisingly spry and indigo-haired seventy-year-old chuckled. "Ah yes; the Reunion's a bit much for people who aren't used to it. My wife found it horrendously confusing the first five years before she knew enough names and connections to start stringing everybody together. They're the rest of Aunt Volpe's nieces and nephews; Martora even named her daughter after her. There's Panda and Polare too, but they're much younger than the rest of us and you've probably met them already since their mother was Daniela's Sun back in the Fifties and Sixties."

Xanxus had in fact met both Panda and Polare Superbi; they'd visited Grandma fairly regularly and sometimes brought their own kids along, but those kids had all been younger than him so he'd not really been interested in them. He'd not seen them since finding out he was Superbi though, so that was something to look forward to. Maybe.

"Any others?" he asked.

Urso made a face. "Well, there's Coyote," he muttered, "not that he's actually bothered to remember he's family in a good fifty years, so you're probably safe there."

Coyote was a Superbi? Seriously? Or maybe not, since he had clearly distanced himself from the Family and they were doing likewise. The name alone should probably have been a clue, but in Xanxus's defence most Superbi were inordinately proud –ha ha, pun– of their surname and never forwent it if they could help it.

"Never have guessed," he commented.

"He likes to think he's just Vongola, not bound by any other family obligations," Urso grumbled, "but there's always a few who think they're above the family values. Just look at Uro and Baleno; one's a self-absorbed boor and the other's, well, _that_. Poor Delfino, having his oldest turn out so poorly; at least the grandchildren make up for it there. Well, the surviving ones do anyway."

Xanxus was pretty sure Baleno Superbi was the shark's father; had shark had a sibling die?

"Hey, drinks are served!" Pantera called out from the far end of the room before Xanxus could decide whether he wanted to pry. "Urso, Coguaro, get over here so we can start the aperitifs!"

Xanxus wandered over, grabbed a drink and helped himself to olives. "Coguaro?" He asked once Urso had helped himself and walked off.

The Superbi Heir grinned up at him. "Well you need a family name and most of the others are taken; I suggested Caracal but Pantanal called his baby son that back in November, Giaguaro's my brother and Tigre's my uncle, so you could have been Tigrino to match Cousin Tigrina but Guigna insisted you needed a name all your own. And that you were _definitely_ a big cat of some kind, not an ungulate like your other half-siblings."

It could have been worse. "Put it on the paperwork yet?"

Pantera smirked, flopping down on a nearby sofa. "Coguaro Superbi does exist as a person, although they need a bit of fleshing out; stop by the genealogy records room later in the week with the relevant paperwork and they'll sort everything out for you. Your Aunt Ornata –your mother's little sister– married back in to Orbettino Superbi, so you're listed as her brother due to the rather scant age difference. She's around somewhere, but made it clear that much as she'd like to see you, that's entirely up to you."

He had an actual aunt? Not just an 'aunt' in the sense of a female relative a generation or more older than him –Superbi were very fuzzy about degrees of relatedness– but one of his mother's actual sisters? Although it sounded like she'd been a little kid when his mother got pregnant. That was still much better than nothing though. "Think about it," he conceded, settling himself in a generously-proportioned armchair.

"Nobody's mentioned you to your grandmother yet," Pantera continued much more quietly, "as I don't believe she's even been told that her missing daughter is dead. Nobody wanted to broach the subject without your permission and the inter-family politics make it a bit awkward. I or my father can deal with that if you'd prefer, or you can tell her yourself."

Xanxus did _not_ want to go into that. "Talk to horse," he said shortly. "Ma's buried in the Capuchin cemetery in Palermo; name on the grave is Maddalena Vieri." Ma had gone by at least eight different names and surnames while he was growing up, although she'd always called him Xanxus. He'd stopped keeping track of what other people called her by the time he was three, because clearly none of them were her _real_ name; she'd always just been Ma to him.

"Thank you, cousin; I'll pass it on tomorrow." The Heir Superbi paused, glancing across the room to where Urso was now chatting to Anna Prizzi, the shark's grandma, and Delfino was very clearly teasing his grandson. Xanxus could feel his Rain's simmering irritation from here; he gave it two minutes before shark bellowed at the man and stomped over here muttering irritably. Maybe five minutes on the absolute outside.

* * *

Xanxus didn't go back to the Superbi the next day –he needed to recover and regroup a little, as well as take some time to think about the possibility of meeting his grandmother– instead spending half the day in the workshop and the other half down on the farmstead, talking to Florrie on the phone. She couldn't really relate to the sheer size of his extended family, but she did sympathise with feeling overwhelmed by so many people wanting to talk to him and not feeling up to that much socialising, and encouraged him to assert his boundaries and walk away when he was starting to feel frazzled. As she pointed out, if they really cared they'd let him, and if they were offended, stuff them.

He did visit again the day after and took Luss along with him, as backup and social buffer. Shark wasn't technically with him –he was taking his little sister along so had left the Varia early– but Xanxus intended to hunt his Rain down as soon as possible so as to have two Guardians on hand. Mammon was not social and not enjoying their current dental difficulties, Bel was too whimsical to bring along to something like this and Florrie was in England with a bunch of deadlines coming up, so Xanxus had to stick with his Sun and Rain for this.

Well first he had to find his Rain in this madhouse, but he could do that and he had Luss to deflect attention along the way. Luss knowing he was here for a purpose would help the Sun not get distracted by all the pretty people Xanxus was vaguely related to; the Sky had noticed the other day that his maternal relatives aged very well.

* * *

Shark's little sister Delfina was fourteen, had his pale colouring other than the eyes –hers were green– but was about Florrie's height with a softer build rather than tall and skinny like her brother. She also had a slightly rounder face and different eyebrows, but the same high cheekbones and pointed chin. The distinctive Superbi 'cat face' Dario Cavallone had mentioned, which Xanxus shared.

She was also deaf and amusingly proficient in Varia sign –definitely the shark's fault that– so Xanxus was able to strike up a conversation with her that enabled them both to ignore everybody else in the room, which was a welcome relief up until lunchtime, when Pantera crashed their discussion on current rumours circulating at the Academy to be nosy.

"So, I've got a question, Coguaro," the Family Heir drawled, throwing himself down on the couch opposite them and signing along in LIS as he spoke. "First time I met you, you had a range of scars; then by summer they'd all gone and you were freckly instead. Now however there's neither a scar nor freckle to be seen anywhere; what happened?"

Xanxus glanced at Delfina, who rolled her eyes and signed, "Rude kitty," in Varia sign, the gesture embellished in a way Italian sign language wasn't, clearly referring to the expectant man facing them.

Yes, the inquiry _was_ rude, but it was also something he didn't mind talking about since it was an opportunity to trash-talk the old fart and discuss Flame mechanics.

"Did you know that the old fart flash froze me in Zero-Point ice back when I was fifteen?" Xanxus said, signing as he spoke. The Varia sign for the scientific terminology there was a bit obscure, so he had to finger-spell as well. "Was a bit sloppy either freezing or defrosting me, so I wound up with a ton of frostbite scars and some deeper tissue damage."

"Oh really," Pantera murmured, stilling abruptly and watching Xanxus intently from under his lashes. This was the first time the Varia Boss had seen the Superbi Heir let his razor-sharp intelligence show clearly in his face and Flames, since dealing with 'family court' took more patience and diplomacy than raw brilliance; Kitty was weighing implications and repercussions and fitting this into the wider political landscape. Not much liking what he was seeing, either.

"Load of psychological trauma too," Xanxus admitted quietly, still signing, "both from the ice and from waking up to a world eight years different. Finally managed to start working through things summer before last, including creating a Flame-based treatment for the scarring last spring. But I fucked up slightly in the application, because I was using Denial to hide the worst of the scarring and that interacted interestingly with the healing technique; hence the freckles." Basically. It was a hazard of being your own initial test subject, tripping over things like that.

"They were a very becoming mistake," Kitty drawled, amusement colouring his body language.

"Also worked out how to do the Zero-Point myself, for desensitisation therapy," Xanxus continued, because this was the fun part that he rather vindictively _wanted_ to get back to the old fart eventually. "Been using it to make ice cream."

Delfina shook silently and Pantera laughed so hard he rolled right off the sofa.


	8. Chapter 8

Last chapter of this story; as I said at the beginning, I'm already working on the third part in the series but it'll take some time as I'm currently on holiday (camping). I hope everybody enjoyed this though and I'll see you all later!

* * *

 **Pick up the pieces (and move on)**

Boss only attended three days of the Superbi Family Reunion, then spent the rest of the week down on the farmstead. Squalo stopped by briefly one day, but since his Sky was alternating between picking the early apricots and reading books while sitting under the trees in the orchard, the Rain had let him be. The Reunion was bad enough when you were used to it; getting thrown in the deep end with no practice would be a shock to anybody's system.

Plus, well… Boss wasn't used to having family. Not _proper_ family, who loved and teased and cared deeply even as they prodded at you because you were being Dumb about things and would instantly and viciously turn on any outsider who tried to trash you in their hearing.

Squalo loved his family dearly –well his _extended_ family at least– but the problem of coming from a family of high-achieving perfectionists was that they _were_ all high-achieving perfectionists and it was tremendously annoying being in a confined space with driven, passionate people whose goals and priorities did not line up with yours. Which was why he didn't visit much despite a good third of his closer family being within an hour's drive of Varia Headquarters; he had his own life, thanks.

One of the nice things about being Varia was that family members didn't show up at random moments expecting him to socialise, because they were smarter than that. Unfortunately not being accessible to visit meant Grandpa and the cat frequently resorted to underhanded methods to ensure _he_ visited _them_ , but Squalo more or less managed to put up with that; it was because they cared and wanted to see him.

Sometimes he had to remind himself of that through gritted teeth, but they did at least respect his boundaries and didn't push. Much. Usually.

Boss being Superbi too would probably get interesting as he started spending more time with his closer relatives and they learned his habits and idiosyncrasies well enough to discover where they could poke him without getting exploded at, but for now everybody was being careful and welcoming so as to ensure he knew they cared. How long that would last –and how having family support would change things for Boss– was still up in the air, but Squalo intended to enjoy the lull while it lasted.

* * *

In late May Squalo got in from a mission to find Boss sprawled on his couch, twirling a knife around his fingers.

"Voi, what's up?"

His Sky caught the blade and slid it into his jacket. "I fucking hate the old fart," he said conversationally. "Even if he didn't believe Mist-tests were reliable he could still have _done_ one then sprung for a lab test afterwards, to verify the details. Even if he buried the Cavallone half I could still have grown up fostering with your family and been surrounded by people who _got_ me, who affirmed my interests and grounded me, who talked about how I looked like my great-grandma –I could have _met_ Grandma Volpe– and encouraged me to try new things and run around and be a _kid_ rather than insisting I behave 'as befits a don's son' all the time." The skin around Xanxus's eyes was tight and his neck rippled. "I could have had _friends_."

That last plaintive sentence was barely a whisper and it made Squalo want to kill things. No, be honest; it made him want to kill _people_. Starting with Don Vongola and branching out from there to include a few of the man's Guardians and the already-dead Vongola boys for good measure. Piss on their graves, maybe? The Vongola boys –bar Federico– never having been officially invested as Heirs meant their graves were much more easily accessible: in the general Vongola Family graveyard rather than entombed in a stone coffin in the crypt under the Iron Fort.

"You've got it now," Squalo said bluntly, because that was all he could say that wasn't going over old ground. "You're not even twenty yet; you've got plenty of life left to do everything you want in and give yourself all the things that shithead deprived you of and more."

"True." His Sky relaxed a little into the upholstery. "Going to try and get to know a few cousins a bit better," he added, glancing sideways at Squalo.

"Go for it," the Rain said easily, kneeling down to empty out his dirty laundry from his go bag. "You'll probably want to strangle them sometimes, but that's family for you; I'm sure you'll be just as annoying back."

Xanxus snorted. "Thanks shark," he said dryly.

"Welcome."

* * *

With June came the return of the sword-brat and Mist-girl, this time staying at the Iron Fort and doing all the official things Don Vongola wanted them to do, meeting the people he wanted them to meet and hearing the things he wanted them to hear. Squalo gave the brats a week to get past the glitz and sparkle to notice the bias being pushed, another week to start chafing and a further three days to begin making their own plans in; one thing Pantera –among others– had made a point of ensuring the brats knew was what the privileges and responsibilities of Vongola Guardians were. One of those privileges was that, if not _specifically_ born into or sworn to any particular Family, the only person whose orders they were truly required to follow was their Sky. And Chew Toy had already made it very clear he wasn't going to order them to do anything.

Which meant that, provided sword-brat and Mist-girl could get over their Japanese sensibilities, they could skip out on all the official Vongola events they wanted; Nono couldn't stop them. They could then set about pinning down the real issues afflicting the Family on different levels and take action against them, or show up at the Varia for a chat and a spar, or arrange their own meetings with various Vongola people. Anything at all, so long as Chew Toy didn't tell them otherwise.

'Right Hand' or not, Smokescreen had no power at all over his fellow Guardians unless Chew Toy backed him up, and trash _wouldn't_ when he probably still had Boss's words about 'bringing his Guardians to heel' ringing in his ears from the meeting after Easter.

The 'not Catholic' issue was ongoing and the brats would probably get dragged into it, but the sword-brat would get leeway because people would subconsciously associate him with Asari and he'd actually been paying attention when Colocolo was talking at the practice dinner back in March, so beyond having an array of neat deflections at his disposal, he'd had the time to look up a list of common references and do some background reading on the subject. Brat could at least seem educated and informed in religious matters as opposed to pig-ignorant, which was something. Mist-girl would get even more leeway because she was actually a member of the Japanese Catholic Church and therefore a fellow believer, if a fairly new one, although she could probably bluff there so long as they didn't dig too deeply into her background. She _had_ been baptised though and was quietly rooted in her faith, so she'd be welcomed and accepted and encouraged. Plus it was reassuring to have the Left Hand be known to be somewhat pious, especially considering her connection to Rokudo; faith would be another check preventing needless bloodshed.

Smokescreen on the other hand had deep-seated authority issues which were impeding his smooth reintegration into the Catholic practices of his childhood; he distrusted everybody older than him on principle –despite his rather hypocritical blind faith in the written word, trashy magazines included– so was struggling with the expected catch-up on the traditional Catholic milestones that he'd missed over the past four years. Confirmation in particular, which generally took place around a person's fourteenth birthday.

It probably didn't help that at least some of the priests would be encouraging him to reconcile with his father as a good son should; Squalo had heard _all_ kinds of juicy rumours, many of which involved explosions and shouting. The truth would filter in or out eventually –whatever that might be– but evidence thus far suggested a much rockier road to reconciliation with Don Bianchi than Don Vongola would be entirely happy with. Smokescreen clearly couldn't even manage a public façade of having made peace with his father to keep the gossips at bay, so every last bit of dirty laundry –real or imagined– was going to get dragged out into the open. It didn't help that Smokescreen had only just discovered the existance of the toddler sister and infant brother he now had courtesy of his father and stepmother; he'd probably taken it as proof of being replaced and reacted accordingly, despite having long-since disowned that side of his family as evidenced by his name-change.

All in all, the month leading up to Quiet Week promised to be rather more exciting than usual on the Alliance side. Squalo however was mostly curious as to how the Gesso's investigation into Miss Spook might be progressing and whether they'd unearthed anything the Varia had missed. Yes they were Quality, but they weren't infallible and having been on the opposite side of the fake-future war they'd had limited resources to draw on anyway there.

Squalo was expecting some kind of contact over that, if only to refute all the arguments put forwards or poke holes in the Bovino science, and the time around Quiet Week was the best moment for it as the Officers –and Boss– were all in the building preparing things for meetings, making sure their responsibilities were properly discharged for the year with everything accounted for. Sumu, being in charge of Recruitment, wouldn't be back in the building until the second week of the month –school ended on June tenth so she'd be making offers and following up on potential recruits until then– but when she got back she'd have to blitz the paperwork to get it all done in time for Quiet Week, as Squalo knew from his own time running Recruitment. Equipment was much more straightforward in comparison.

* * *

Squalo had clearly misjudged his part-time student; brat showed up at the Varia in the early afternoon of the ninth of June to claim the promised spar that had got missed at Easter due to the Rain Officer having to attend all those Stupid events with Boss.

"Training's important, sempai," the incorrigible seventeen-year-old said innocently as he stood in the Varia's Front Hall, eyes wide and bullshit smile firmly in place. "Besides, Tsuna's catching up on his schoolwork today –Chrome is helping– and that's much more important than walking around another load of offices while everybody tells Don Vongola how honoured they are by the visit and no work gets done."

Squalo chuckled at that unsublte indictment of Nono's priorities. "Vooi, brat! Well if you're so keen to get thrashed, then who am I to deny you the opportunity?" He turned away and set off down towards the training rooms, his part-time student hurrying after him; the public hallways and main routes to the training rooms were kept free of traps because Housekeeping said so. "Been practicing without the Ring, I trust?"

"Of course," the sword-brat said seriously. "Dad's been helping; I'll take it off before we start." Because a Vongola Guardian had to wear the Ring all the time otherwise, as it was an identifier and a _passé-par-tout_ that gave him full access to all Alliance establishments including Varia Headquarters. Sparring however was not a public activity, so taking it off was both acceptable and appropriate. Yes, the weather was pretty stifling in June, but the training rooms were mainly in the basement and sub-basements and were correspondingly cooler.

"Sempai?"

"Yes, brat?"

"Could we spar with our Box Weapons later in the week? I've not had many opportunities to practice in Namimori and I've got a few ideas I want to try out."

Well, brat _was_ his student even if he wasn't actually Varia, so… "Voi, stop by later in the week to use one of the Flame-proof training rooms," the Rain Officer ordered. "Then once you've refined your ideas a bit we can spar." There wasn't any point actually fighting if brat didn't have a clear understanding of what he could and couldn't make his Box Weapons do. "I'll set you up a few slots in the biggest basement rooms and the outdoor fields, so your bird's got room to manoeuvre." Sword-brat had a Box-dog too, for all Squalo had mainly seen it used as a sword-bearer rather than in combat; still, no reason not to see what the brat could come up with there too.

"Thank you sempai; I'll work hard," the sword-brat promised, expression serious for once.

"Make sure you do, brat."

He'd have to assign sword-brat an Apprentice nickname to book him into the system, but that wouldn't be a hardship and he was holding up decently well in the face of Varia-style combat training, so why not? Could beat a few more languages into his student's head while he was at it, since he was taking to both Italian and Sicilian so well; improve his English maybe –English was always useful, especially if you didn't know the local lingo– and start him on something a bit more challenging like Greek or Russian. Greek first, Squalo decided; Greece was closer and the Greeks had influenced a lot of Western Civilisation, Sicily in particular. Giving sword-brat some history assignments spanning from Ancient Greece to the modern era would further his background understanding as they moved through time and cherry-picked their way through the tangled mess that was European history. He'd have to figure out workbooks for that; he'd ask Tyrant for recommendations.

It would be amusing to see how long it took Chew Toy or any of the Iron Fort contingent to notice that the Tenth Vongola Rain Guardian was getting a Varia education on the side.

* * *

When they arrived down at the door of the training room Bel was waiting for them, leaning against the doorframe with Pins a little further back along the hallway stitching up one of his poppets.

"Making it official then, Squa-sempai?" the royal asked with a teasing grin. Squalo rolled his eyes at this blatant admission of eavesdropping; he'd known it would be all over the Varia as soon as he invited the sword-brat to come back later in the week. He'd just hoped it would take more than three minutes. Clearly it was a slow day for gossip.

"He's not Varia," the Rain Officer said shortly.

"Still your student," Belphegor countered gleefully, "so he needs a nickname."

Squalo knew that tone. "Of course you already have something in mind," he said flatly as he picked up the pen Bound to the notice-board beside the door and scrawled his Name in the slots for the next few hours. It was a Varia Rule that a quarter of training slots couldn't be filled in advance, so there'd be enough space for people changing plans or getting in at the last minute, and there were enough rooms that even if everybody was on Varia grounds training, there'd be space for everyone so long as some people were doing team training rather than all working solo.

"Springer," the Storm Officer said promptly, his accent turning German for a moment. Squalo coughed; okay that was funny and kind of a backhand compliment as well as a pun and looking superficially derogatory. In German, _Springer_ was a term for a chess knight and also a stand-in or understudy; in English however it was a type of spaniel. Slightly less amusingly, in Danish it also meant 'dolphin;' Bel poking at him by giving the student he'd finally accepted as his own a marine-themed nickname to match Mahi, his other Apprentice.

Sword-brat following him around and calling him sempai was definitely spaniel behaviour to the uninformed observer; overly friendly, excitable and puppyish. Most of which could be written off as sword-crazy rather than the shameless brazen and supposedly 'un-Rain-like' behaviour it actually was.

"Voi, it'll do," was what he actually said. "Mist-girl can be Kalk." Which again had multiple translations; in Czech it meant 'calque,' in Danish it meant 'chalice' –referencing Rokudo's little possession habit– and it also meant 'lime' in a few other languages, a call-back to that time last year when a few bored mooks had surprised her and she'd reacted by Conjuring a cloud of quicklime. One of the mooks had got caught and there'd been screaming and writhing as the powder reacted exothermically with the moisture in his eyes and mucus membranes. Dumbass, not realising it was Mist-made and dispersing it.

Bel hummed agreement. "The Prince will have his Manservant sort out the paperwork," he stated.

Squalo nodded his appreciation. "Pins, get Mahi would you?" He needed to make sure the sword-brat –Springer now– wasn't getting too used to fighting just him, so facing off against Squalo's other Apprentice would be good there. It would also put Squalo outside the spar, meaning he could focus entirely on brat's Flame technique rather than splitting his attention to defend himself as well.

"Sure thing Captain," the Mist said cheerfully before vanishing in a puff of glowing green smoke.

The newly-dubbed Springer had just watched the interaction so far, eyes flicking from Squalo to Bel, but now he spoke up. "Who's Mahi, sempai?"

"My other student," Squalo said easily. "You're sparring against him; that way I can watch you both and correct your technique without having to stop the fight each time." He didn't mention that the two were actually almost the same age or that Mahi was a Varia Squad Leader; those weren't important details in this context.

Brat ducked his head. "Yes, sempai." He glanced at the training room door.

"Get in there and start warming up," Squalo added. "No changing your clothes; get used to fighting in that suit, that's what it was made for." His previous spars at Tsuyoshi's dojo had all had Springer wearing traditional dojo clothing, but today brat was wearing a Flame-treated Vongola suit cut to allow for a full swordsman's mobility; the tailoring around the shoulders made it obvious.

The sword-brat ducked his head, flashed a grin and slipped through the door.

"Playing up the 'tradition and respect' angle?" Bel asked once the brat was out of earshot.

"Brat wanting to keep up his training and honouring his father and his weapon, where I'm somebody he knows his father respects and trusts because I've been invited to his family dojo a few times? Yeah," Squalo agreed matter-of-factly. "Play to the 'all swordsmen together' thing and cultural similarities, so people don't look so hard at the Varia thing and think this is Boss trying to suborn Chew Toy's Right Hand." Which, honestly they kind of _were_ , but only in terms of wanting the brat to see what was really going on and use a bit of good sense in making decisions.

"And everybody knows the Varia give nicknames to everybody," Bel added teasingly.

Yes they did, but there were different kinds of nickname and most non-Varia couldn't read the nuances. Springer and Kalk both had Apprentice-style nicknames, cutesy but layered, unlike Chew Toy and Smokescreen whose nicknames were indictment and insult.

There was a thud from the staircase and then Mahi dashed around the corner, filling the corridor with his bulk and looking a bit flushed; had he tripped over his own feet again? "Pins said you wanted me, Captain?"

Squalo nodded at the training room door, his Flame-senses informing him of Pins slinking back along the corridor towards Bel. "You're sparring against Chew Toy's Rain while I watch," he said; "be a good senior student and tell Springer the Rules for Apprentice sparring." Mahi was Varia Quality, he could read between the lines and hear all the things meant but going unsaid.

"Yes sir!"

* * *

It being an open spar, quite a few other Varia wandered in to watch over the next few hours; mostly sword users, but Mahi's new Squad made an appearance too. Squalo ignored them since they were behaving themselves –it was a Rule for Apprentice spars that only the Varia they were apprenticed to were allowed to offer unsolicited commentary on their fighting technique– and focused on critiquing the sword-brat's footwork in between shouting directions so he regulated his Flames better. Mahi set an excellent example in both those areas for all that his spatial awareness was less good –Squalo did have to yell at his more longstanding Apprentice a few times so he actually _used_ his peripheral vision to pick up where Springer had moved to, dammit– but by the end of the two-and-a-half-hour session the Rain Officer felt both had improved sufficiently to avoid punishment drills. This time.

Although Springer was definitely distracted by _something_ to have missed that accidental opening of Mahi's earlier.

"Okay, show's over," he said loudly; "Mahi, work on keeping your guard up and do more with your peripheral vision; turning means you're no longer balanced so learn to look! Springer, cool down stretches and a quick shower, then I'm walking you through some more Flame exercises." Brat had done decently well for a complete novice but there was a lot of room for improvement.

The audience dispersed as the sword-brat –officially his personal student now, nickname and all– did as he was told and Mahi was dragged off by his Squad, the two Mists already bouncing ideas back and forth on how they could 'help' their Squad Leader improve. Well that was the peripheral vision problem as good as solved; neither Viti nor Vyti would let that go when it was a way to potentially gain the upper hand in a spar until Mahi corrected the issue. Flame-senses only went so far to solve issues like that; spotting the glint of a rifle out of the corner of your eye never stopped being a valuable skill.

"Er, where do I shower, sempai?"

Good point; the Varia did have communal showers, but they were for mooks or Apprentices his student was technically neither. "Can use mine," Squalo decided; that would also provide privacy for him to poke at whatever had Springer distracted. "Brought a change of clothes?"

The teenager chuckled self-deprecatingly, scratching the back of his head as he picked up his bag, having already slid his rings back on. "Just dojo clothes, sempai."

"That'll do for now; I'll send somebody over to the Iron Fort to bring you another suit." There'd be at least another dozen made up, since they were fitted and Flame-treated and it was easier and cheaper to make and treat a whole batch at once. "Bring a change next time; the Varia does all combat practice in uniform, because that's what we wear in the field. Lighter-weight clothing's for retraining after injuries or learning new skills. Oh, and get a decent pair of boots made; those shoes are shit." Well they were actually very high quality, but they didn't have the ankle support or traction Springer would need in the field. Or even for combat in general, as Springer had discovered before adjusting to the deficiency by using Flames to keep his feet from slipping when he was holding a stance. Squalo doubted that the shoes would last for very long if he kept putting them under combat stress like that though, so best to switch to boots. A swordsman needed good boots.

"Yes, sempai; who do I talk to for boots?"

"Do you know who made your suits?" Brat nodded. "Ask them; they'll know and arrange a fitting."

"Thanks sempai," the teenager managed as he followed Squalo up the stairs.

"Mind your feet," the Rain Officer added; they were out of the main thoroughfares now and there were Flame-traps aimed at Actives up here. Nothing that would inconvenience Housekeeping and nothing too elaborate –they did get external visitors up on this floor sometimes– but not safe like the ground floor, main halls and basement levels were.

"How, sempai?"

Good question actually. "How're you at sensing ambient Flames?"

"That's possible?" Crap then. Squalo huffed, feeling put-upon; did he have to do _everything_ himself here?! Teaching the next generation of Vongola Guardians to detect Flame-traps was something Don Vongola should have arranged the moment they were all Active!

"Walk where I walk, brat." That would do for now.

* * *

By the time his newly-acknowledged student was out of the bathroom Squalo had signed off the paperwork Sekti had left on his desk –for Varia members taking non-Varia Apprentices, he hadn't even known there _was_ paperwork for that– made tea and ordered up some snacks to replenish salt and sugar levels. "Sit down and drink something, voi."

Springer obediently did so, hanging his suit on a hook behind Squalo's office door and propping his sword up on the side of the table.

"So what's eating you?" he asked once the brat was on his second cup of tea and had eaten some breadsticks.

"Sempai?"

"Don't bullshit me; you were distracted all through that spar. It didn't drag you down too much but it was noticeable," Squalo said briskly. "Talk it out and maybe some of it's fixable. Oh and sign this; it's saying that I'm teaching you officially so you get access to me and I get to check up on you."

Springer read the form –Sekti had considerately picked one written in kanji– and signed off in the boxes Squalo had marked for him. Then he finished his tea and accepted another cupful.

Squalo waited patiently, putting the kettle back on for another pot.

"I knew Gokudera didn't like me," the sword-brat began quietly, "but I didn't realise that dislike extended further than me. He withdrew from school shortly after coming over here in March and isn't planning on ever going back. I knew he had Japanese relatives –it's obvious in his looks– and he mentioned once that it was why he learned Japanese in the first place, but I don't think he'd ever have gone to Japan at all if it hadn't been for Reborn wanting him to be Tsuna's Right Hand. He's not gone looking for any living relatives, not visited the towns his family comes from or tried to find graves, and he doesn't even have a personal shrine in his rooms for ancestors; no pictures of them or so much as names. Chrome and I brought him homework and he said it was pointless because he was working now and wouldn't be going back to school at all, and neither would Tsuna."

What a can of worms _that_ was. "I rather doubt Smoking Bomb actually realised he might have living relatives on his mother's side," Squalo said judiciously. "He was what, eight when he ran away from home? Eight-year-olds aren't known for their critical thinking skills, no matter how intellectually brilliant they are, so he probably didn't consider the possibility of living extended family. Lavina Gokudera was only half Japanese, but I know Smoking Bomb definitely didn't go looking for the non-Japanese half of her heritage either. Probably didn't consider they existed to introduce himself to, having been raised believing his father's second wife was his mother and not knowing where to look up his birth-mother's heritage or thinking to ask somebody else to do it for him." Information had looked into the backgrounds of Chew Toy's Guardians last summer to pass the time and determined that Smokescreen's grandmother had been Soave. Canadian Soave, even; if Squalo could be bothered to call up his maternal grandparents and mention Lavina they'd probably tell him all about her. It wasn't a close connection but it was there; not all that hard to find either. Then again, Smokescreen had already proved he didn't think, so wouldn't have thought to look.

"He's not eight anymore," Springer said flatly.

"Maybe not, but has he matured since then? Or is he still acting like a spoilt brat who believes the world revolves around him?"

His student grinned that bullshit smile. "Are you talking about Gokudera or Mukuro, sempai?"

Squalo snorted. "I could be talking about that Sun Guardian too; is he still telling those blatant lies to his sister and expecting everybody else to back him up on them?" Idiot boxer had a hell of a lot in common with Iemitsu; he was tempted to suggest Information do a genetic comparison to see if they were related. Iemitsu had to have had grandparents after all, and they might have had siblings. Hell, his Japanese father might have had siblings, which meant Chew Toy could easily have second cousins knocking about the place. Iemitsu was thankfully an only child; one moron running the CEDEF was enough, they didn't need the man's incompetence doubled. Bad enough that Chew Toy took after his father there, if in a markedly different fashion.

Mother of God, Chew Toy's Guardians were a complete train-wreck too, weren't they? Half of them self-centred morons, then there was the Cloud who wanted nothing to do with the rest of them and the Lightning who was too young; the two who were actually making an effort were completely outnumbered.

"Ryōhei's trying to go pro," Springer said.

"He'll fail," Squalo said confidently. "It's against the Vindice's Laws for Flame-Actives to go into professional sports and boxer-brat's control is shit." There'd be sabotage going on behind the scenes there to begin with, leading up to a home visit explaining the situation and then –if the idiot persisted– smear campaigns and doping allegations. Sun Flames in the bloodstream did mimic the affects of certain kinds of drugs –they certainly bolstered red blood cell count– so that might even stick. The Vindice didn't do that personally; they had minions for it, some of whom had agreed to a lifetime of Mist-contracted and adequately-paid service as an alternative to lifetime imprisonment.

"So I can't go into baseball either?"

Shit. This was one of Springer's passions and presumed life-goals, wasn't it? "No, you can't," Squalo said frankly. "Not professionally anyway; you could train as a coach and teach, or do amateur games for fundraising purposes, even join school or university teams but no more than that. Omertà applies to everybody with Active Flames, regardless of criminal connections. Can't go into politics for the same reasons; too much scrutiny." There was a bit more leeway in acting and other kinds of entertainment, mainly because such professions had only become 'respectable' very recently, but a person would have to be very, very careful not to get caught on camera.

Brat nodded, face closed. "Thank you for telling me, sempai." He got up. "I should be getting back, I've got homework to be doing as well."

Squalo also got to his feet. "I'll sort you out a car; I've booked you in for Wednesday evening on an outdoor field –seven o'clock until midnight, make sure you take drinks and snacks– and Saturday afternoon from two until five in one of the Flame-proof indoor training rooms, since by then you should have a better idea of what you're doing and be less likely to destroy things by accident."

"Thank you, sempai."

"I'll be in both those days, if you want to ask questions before or after." Or talk about anything else, which hopefully did not need to be said.

Springer nodded, shouldering his bag and grabbing both sword and hanger, letting his sweat-stained suit hang down his back as he followed Squalo carefully along the corridor. Squalo had explained how Flame-sensing worked as their first cups of tea cooled, but it would take Springer time and practice to get used to doing it; he'd told his student to explain it to Kalk and practice with and on each-other.

"Would Reborn have known about the social and professional limitations placed on Actives, sempai?" He asked eventually, after Squalo had collared a mook to drive him back down to the Iron Fort and a car had been brought around.

Well this promised to be explosive. "Definitely," Squalo said firmly. "I doubt Sky-trash knew though; it's not something he'd have thought to ask about." Which was a bit pathetic really, but probably reassuring nonetheless. Hadn't his student gone into baseball in the fake-future though? Then again, Squalo didn't remember seeing any evidence of the Vindice in the fake-future either –the nutty flower's world-domination plans couldn't have gone as well as they did otherwise– so it _could_ have been possible there, since he hadn't known he shouldn't. Then again, Springer's fake-future counterpart had left baseball behind him so it was possible he'd been forced out of it by those Actives who worked _for_ the Vindice –who not being undead zombies still had their own Will and therefore got picked up on by the Bazooka tech– or he might have been playing baseball while pursuing higher education, since university teams weren't the professional leagues.

Springer nodded, mostly to himself, then got into the back of the car. "I'll see you Wednesday evening then, sempai."

Squalo suspected that tomorrow would involve quite a bit of cathartic collateral damage, but that was part of what the outdoor training fields were _for_. Landscaping was much cheaper than construction work. Made for good punishments and character-building exercises too, putting all that dirt back where it belonged after somebody had vented their spleen.

* * *

He did see his newly-acknowledged student on Wednesday –brat got into his office unscathed and crashed out on the sofa at ten to one in the morning– but they didn't manage to have another conversation until Saturday afternoon, over an early dinner.

"I thought Don Vongola would be more inspiring as a leader," the teenager commented quietly over his steamed fish and salad.

"He's seventy-four," Squalo said mildly. "The last decade's been all downhill for him; he was decently capable before that and –from what I've been told by relatives– positively brilliant in his thirties and forties, but he really should have retired twenty years ago."

"Decade…" Springer mused. "Since the mess with Xanxus-san, then?"

"That was the tipping point," Squalo agreed, "but things were quietly going wrong even before that. The 'mess,' as you put it, would have been significantly _less_ messy if Don Vongola had actually adopted Boss properly and formally through the appropriate channels, rather than just claiming as his own a boy he _knew_ was not his son and assuming parental rights when he had none at all." Never mind that Boss had probably been intended as a tool to use against his _actual_ father's Family, the Cavallone; that was pure speculation however and not up for discussion.

"He wasn't formally adopted?" Brat looked shocked.

"Nope," Squalo confirmed with a somewhat vicious grin. "Technically Boss was kidnapped, since Don Vongola is not his father and his mother believed she was handing over her son to his other biological parent." He let that sink in. "Don Vongola also didn't bother to investigate Boss's mother's family background, which can be done with Mist Flames and a simple blood test and would have revealed that she was a cadet member of _my_ Family."

"Xanxus-san's related to you?"

"Our grandparents were cousins," Squalo confirmed. "So the Superbi are a bit displeased with Nono over him stealing one of our own and keeping him away from his family. Superbi do things a bit differently to the rest of the Vongola; we're the only Alliance Family that actually predates the Vongola and Giotto founding it, so we have our own culture and values. The most obvious difference being that we don't all-but-worship Sky Flame users or expect them to run the Family; becoming Don goes to the person with the aptitude and willingness to do so, regardless of flame type."

"Pantera is Don Leone's eldest though."

"Maybe so, but Leone's father Servalo was the second-born; his older brother didn't want to be Don Superbi and found a Sky to devote himself to instead." Squalo sipped his water. "Superbi do things differently to the rest of the Alliance, because we predate it by well over a century and our traditions were already in place when we were invited to join by Secondo. All the other Families are descended from foundlings Giotto took in or neighbouring farmers who followed his example –bar the Prizzi who were nobility and joined much later, along with the Zanasi who are also latecomers– so their culture is strongly rooted in the local Catholic tradition with a heavy lashing of Sky-worship on top. The Superbi on the other hand have been merchant traders" –and pirates; mostly pirates for all that they had engaged in 'honest' merchant trading in certain ports– "since the fifteenth century and we still have connections all around the world. Our traditions reflect this; we don't scorn bastards or expect their mothers to give them up entirely like the rest of the mafia does. We just welcome them into the family, because any child with one Superbi parent counts as Superbi, regardless of legal surnames or their parents' marital status."

"So he's Xanxus Superbi?" Springer asked curiously.

"He's got a Family name now; you may have noticed the animal theme," Squalo said dryly. "He's sticking to 'Xanxus' in public though; less confusing for everybody."

"And more private," the teenager pointed out.

"Mm-hm," Squalo agreed; sharp brat. "Incidentally, the Superbi practice adoption too; Mahi's a cousin of mine who's now fully my responsibility rather than his parents' because I've taken him on as a personal apprentice, regardless of my being also his Varia superior. So he's now part of my branch of the family and may well decide to adopt 'Mahi' as his personal name after retiring, since it keeps to the marine theme." 'Mahi' was Persian for 'fish.' "My taking him on and training him up in swordsmanship counts as making him my heir, at least until I marry and have kids of my own; there's paperwork to prove it too." Actually the paperwork listed Mahi as Squalo's adopted son, since he'd been fourteen when the apprenticeship started and Squalo had been twenty; adult, employed and therefore old enough to take full responsibility for a child. Squalo hadn't thought of it like that though; he had _not_ been old enough to be a father and Mahi didn't _need_ a father anyway. Mahi _had_ a father –if a very shitty father– so Squalo being older cousin and role-model was fine. Although Squalo would prefer that Mahi tone down the hero worship a bit, please.

"So the Superbi aren't particularly happy with Don Vongola right now due to what happened with Xanxus, but even if that hadn't happened, there would still be problems?" Springer said eventually after finishing off his meal, neatly laying his cutlery across his scraped plate.

"Consider that Nono had three legitimate adult Sky sons at the time Boss got put on ice," Squalo drawled, "and that six years later they were all dead. Not accidentally dead or of illness either; murdered, each and every one of them. What kind of Don not only can't keep his Heir alive but didn't even bother to train his other grown-up sons so they could defend themselves properly? Didn't train their Guardians either? We _still_ don't know who killed Federico." Although after having seen the fallout of the Simon mess with the phantom Daemon Spade, it was entirely possible the Mist-ghost had been interfering there as well. Tracking down incidents that Daemon Spade had probably had a hand in was one of those summer projects for idle Varia that had managed to run for years now, as the amount of research and digging and cross-referencing required to make any progress at all was fairly intimidating. Still, certain assassins did like the challenge.

The teenager went very still. "Squalo-san, are there people in the Alliance who believe Tsuna will be murdered before he manages to inherit the Vongola?"

"Very probably," Squalo said bluntly. "People outside the Alliance too; a Family losing three adult and supposedly capable heir-candidates all inside of five years is the kind of thing _everybody_ hears about. The Varia does keep an eye out for that sort of thing, but we're not infallible." Don Vongola also didn't like it when they operated inside Alliance territory, so they had to prioritise discretion over efficiency.

"This is part of why a lot of people wanted Xanxus to inherit, isn't it."

"Yes; Boss is a much harder target than" –don't call him Chew Toy– "Sky-trash will ever be and everybody knows it. You don't get to be Head of the Varia without learning to assassin-proof everything." And even _that_ wasn't entirely foolproof, as the coffee incident had proved. Harmless as it had been, somebody only had to get lucky once.

"Could you teach me and Chrome a little of that?"

Willingness made education so much easier to impart. "You, yes; if Kalk asks I'm sure Maínomai would be happy to give her some tips. We'll start with expanding your language knowledge; your Italian and Sicilian are good so we'll focus on English for a while, get you fluent." Squalo promptly switched to English. "Think you're ready to try your new Box Weapon techniques in a spar yet?"

Springer blinked twice. "Er, maybe?" he ventured, his pronunciation an amalgam of Japanese and Italian but reasonably comprehensible despite that. "I would like a, er, second opinion. On how they work out of spar." Springer at least had a decent amount of vocabulary down, but his speech was choppy with all the typical beginner difficulties of forgetting appropriate articles in front of words.

"I'll set up an outdoor spar for Monday afternoon so you can see for yourself," Squalo decided. "Also, the Varia have an audio-book library; as my Apprentice you can borrow from it. Find something in English to listen to in the evenings, it'll help your pronunciation." The best way to learn any language after a basic vocabulary had been established was to listen; that was how you learned how it worked and how to make all the grammar rules work for you rather than against you, especially in English where there were at least six different sets of rules, all with their own exceptions.

"Thank you," brat managed. "Where do I find library?"

"'Where is the library,' brat; I'll walk you there this time. In future you can ask Housekeeping to return what you've borrowed and pick out new things, provided you actually tell them the specifics of what you need." Better to leave independent ventures deep into Varia territory for when Springer had a better grasp of traps and how to avoid them; no point getting into trouble with Don Vongola over a Guardian injuring themselves at Varia Headquarters.

"We go now?"

"' _Can_ we go now' if it's a request, 'are we _going_ now' if you just want to know if that is what is happening next."

"Are we going now, sempai?"

Squalo grinned. "We can do, yes."

* * *

"Captain, there's somebody waiting for you in the guest study."

Squalo darted backwards out of reach of both dog and bird, gestured to put a temporary halt to the spar and turned to face Mu. "Voi, who is it?" Boss was in the building currently, he could talk to customers for once.

"It's Fresco." Meaning it was Kikyo of the Gesso; Squalo wasn't sure who'd coined the nickname but it was punny and apt and had stuck so far. Expecting Kikyo to talk to Boss was however not likely to work; probably be a good idea to get Luss in on the conversation instead though. If Kikyo remembered getting shot by Boss like Squalo remembered his run-in with Zakuro then it'd probably be best for Boss to avoid joining in this particular meeting entirely, in fact.

"Just Fresco?" Coming alone was ballsy, all things considered.

"Got a pair of minions waiting by the garage with a car."

Not entirely alone, but no fellow Guardians along with him; interesting. The Gesso Sky was a hell of glass cannon though, so it wasn't really surprising they'd not wanted to leave him alone. Especially if they were taking the information granted seriously, as that was one more angle of attack to be considered.

"Voi, work's come up," he said bluntly to Springer; "Mu will spar with you for a bit; variety will do you good."

"Yes Captain," Mu said agreeably before Springer could comment, drawing his own katana. Squalo left the training field and jogged down towards the building; he'd kind of been expecting Kikyo sometime this month, so he couldn't really complain about the timing. Be interesting to see what angle the Cloud was planning on taking and whether he'd managed to convince himself with whatever data he'd dug up though…

* * *

"So now the Varia is attempting to sow dissent and strife between the Gesso and the Giglio Nero."

Squalo looked from the file on the table to the mint-haired Cloud Guardian staring them down, deliberately did _not_ look at Luss standing on his right and instead said the words which immediately sprung to mind, which happened to be a bible verse:

"Do not withhold good from those to whom it is due, when it is in your power to act."

The utter confusion quoting Proverbs inspired told Squalo his instincts had been spot-on there, so he took his advantage and ran with it before the Cloud could recover his poise.

"Voi, the Gesso have sworn themselves as Allies to the Vongola Alliance so we owe you any information we acquire on possible threats against your Family, and yes, the Giglio Nero _are_ also our Allies, but Yuni as an individual is incredibly suspicious and we do not consider her to be Giglio Nero at all. We don't know what happened to Donna Aria but we can prove she didn't have any kids and she didn't formally make Yuni her Heir either, so Yuni assuming leadership of the Giglio Nero after Donna Aria's disappearance is _deeply_ dubious. She's also got _far_ too much sway over the prospective Vongola Decimo, despite him getting a front seat on her incredibly destructive decision-making style in the fake future, so we'd rather like to curtail her influence if at all possible. But for that we need evidence and allies, since we can't act against our Don." Well they technically could since the 'no orders means we weren't told not to' angle worked just fine, but having the Gesso also working against Miss Spook would be incredibly helpful.

According to Mammon, the Giglio Nero ability to see into the future was partially built on the Seer's assumptions, so faulty assumptions would throw the visions off. Which was apparently what had happened with Colonnello interrupting the Curse; Luce had not seen that coming at _all._

Squalo watched his words hit home, saw the Cloud settle slightly and felt the subtle bloom of emerging Flames that hummed with quiet fury and outrage. Territorial Cloud ahoy; oh good, so there _had_ been evidence to find and Kikyo had found it. Well, Zakuro had; it was clearly Kikyo who had put it all together though.

"Thank you for the specifics of the Bovino Bazooka technology," the irate Cloud said smoothly, tone almost a purr as he planted both hands flat on the table either side of the file, "it brought certain interesting details to light and highlighted previously unexplored avenues of investigation. How much would it cost the Gesso for the Varia to completely ruin Miss Yuni's reputation?"

Oh _now_ they were cooking with gas. "Depends what we've got to work with," Squalo replied easily.

Kikyo smiled; it wasn't even slightly nice. "Oh, the rolls of the Giglio Nero dead from the so-called future; what kind of Donna sacrifices her entire Family and Territory without batting an eye, when she knows in advance what will become of them if she pursues a certain course of action? Come to that, what kind of daughter would murder her own mother, possibly using the Arcobaleno Sky Pacifier to do so? Only after the death of an Arcobaleno can the Pacifier pass to a new bearer. Never mind seducing her mother's bereaved Lightning Guardian; Byakuran had quite a lot to say about the variations in _that_ particular relationship across the different alternate realities."

Squalo felt Luss light up with glee next to him; oh yes, this was going to be _good_. "In that case I'm sure it would be relatively affordable; we have just the person for the job," the Rain Officer said, cheerfully baring his own teeth in a parody of a grin. Lethe would have a field day with this; the Head of Information was entirely and deliberately forgettable, which was the perfect defence against somebody who could see into the future. After all, what good was seeing what was coming if you promptly forgot about it?

"Do let me know about what kind of payment instalments would be appropriate there," Kikyo said equably. "In the meantime, the Gesso have a sabotage job they would like the Varia to consider, as the people and resources I would normally use for such an enterprise are currently employed elsewhere and the logistics are a little tricky to entrust to freelancers." He opened the file on the table to reveal several printed sheets and another file, then pushed the whole lot over. Luss picked up the inner file and started leafing through the pages as Squalo examined the loose sheets.

"The Varia should have an answer for the Gesso before the end of the week," Squalo said, "on both matters."

"Then I shall take my leave." The Cloud swept out of the room.

"Well now we have Scooby in our corner," Luss mused, using the mad flower's recently-coined Varia nickname, "along with his mixed bag of crazies. This should be fun."

"I'm sure Lethe will make sure none of us have any idea what he's getting up to," Squalo said a little sourly; yes, operational security was important but it also rather took the fun out of things. Lethe's work would take time to filter up and around the Alliance –most of those fake-future details were classified, if they'd been written down at all– but a little supplementing the CEDEF's files with Gesso information, leaving evidence of a break-in and so on would make it seem plausible that Iemitsu had simply forgotten to mention everything to Nono. If Squalo were Lethe he'd grab a range of other sensitive information and make it look like he'd been trying for something else entirely and stumbled across blackmail gold on the Giglio Nero due to not knowing where to look for his original target. The sort of mistake that a talented amateur with more balls than good sense would make, then immediately try to capitalise on. He'd knock over Bronco's papers for confirmation too; that was far softer a target than the Varia or the Iron Fort.

"Ah. Of course. Oh well," the Sun Officer sighed, flicking his fringe out of his eyes. "We can at least enjoy the fallout?"

"Voi, I suppose." Squalo took the file out of Luss's hands. "I'll go deliver these to Information and let them know they get to play hard." Then he was headed back outside to see how his student was getting on against Mu; that at least he could have fun with.

* * *

Xanxus made himself scarce for the second half of the week before Quiet Week; back in April he'd quietly filed for a few days off over the solstice and started planning another summer holiday with Florrie, this time in early July and in the Pyrenees. It was a bit over a week this time, since summer at the Varia was slow and he'd not be missing anything important in the immediate aftermath of Quiet Week.

The old fart would probably be pissed he'd managed to skip out on the solstice ball _again_ , but Xanxus honestly didn't care and really, it was better that he _wasn't_ there this time since Chew Toy would be, along with Scooby and Miss Spook who were once again making a point to attend every public Vongola event they possibly could. Although where the Gesso were concerned, it was now a matter of not arousing suspicion and keeping an eye on Chew Toy rather than as a show of unity with the Giglio Nero.

Florrie wasn't doing much of anything in the aftermath of her exams, so Xanxus enjoyed a few days of loafing around her apartment and a trip out to a country house to walk around the gardens in full flower and eat afternoon tea in the tea shop on the one day it didn't constantly rain. The complete absence of responsibilities and paperwork was utterly restful; by Saturday morning he felt like he'd been off for a full week rather than just three days.

The quiet and the space also enabled him to articulate the nagging sense of unease which had been building since early May.

"Got a bad feeling about next week."

His friend hummed, head flopped against his shoulder as they sat side by side on the couch. "I read somewhere that bad feelings –and instincts generally– are an amalgamation all the subliminal cues your brain picks up but never get fully translated into conscious awareness." She paused to sip her tea. "My instincts are a bit hit and miss, but yours are generally spot-on, that I've seen anyway."

She was right about what instincts were, but Sky Flames made instincts much sharper and more accurate than was normal for regular Latents, as Harmony enabled a person to pick up many more details and subtleties once they learned to look and made it a habit. Validation was still very nice though.

"Anything specific or is it a general feeling?" She added curiously.

Xanxus chewed idly on his lower lip, letting his mind drift as he searched for the right words. "Think the old fart's going to pull shit," he said eventually. "He's less in touch with the financial realities these days and much more focused on his own ego and feelings. He's never really bothered to look into _why_ the Varia's so successful, or what that success actually means to the wider Family; to him we're just an unfortunately lucrative service set up by his mother so as to ensure all the ne'er-do-wells she recruited during World War Two to make life hell for the Nazis didn't turn on the Family once the war was over. Which _was_ a factor, but there were many more reasons behind the Varia's founding as a proper Vongola Division than just that."

"So what were those other reasons?" His friend asked idly, leaning forward to set her teacup down on the coffee table.

"I'll start at the beginning, it makes more sense that way," Xanxus said, sitting up and shifting around a little so he could see her face, "which was before World War Two. Grandma –the Donna Ottava– was in charge of the Vongola back then and had been since the mid-Thirties, when Fascism was rampant and Mussolini was in power in Rome. Not that Fascist ideals got much traction in the Alliance –Don Settimo was always incredibly scornful of isolationist nationalism and Ottava followed his lead there– especially after Mussolini actively tried to destroy us in the Twenties, but they were very popular among civilians and did cause problems, especially for women holding down jobs and people who didn't look ethnically Italian. Like a lot of Superbi, for instance; Ottava came down hard on that kind of behaviour and did a lot to counter the propaganda being pushed to children by setting up an Alliance publishing house and printing her own textbooks, which she donated to local schools."

"That sounds easily abused," Florrie commented.

"Oh yes," Xanxus agreed; "old fart took shameless advantage of _that_ to peddle his own agenda the moment he got into power, but that's not the point. Point is that Grandma was heartily sick of Fascism _well_ before World War Two got started and had mobilised Vongola resources long before Hitler invaded Austria, offering sanctuary and false papers to Jews and homosexuals and other 'undesirables' in Central Europe so they could escape abroad. Quite a few of those people ended up on Mafia Land, but some of them moved into Vongola R&D and Medical with papers declaring them members of local families, appropriately married and completely Catholic. Which they definitely weren't, of course, but Grandma was pragmatic and wanted clever, loyal people working for her, so who better than those who owed her their lives and freedom and were keen to express their gratitude?" The Vongola had a surprisingly large Jewish contingent even now.

"Very practical," his friend agreed.

"Then the actual war started, which apparently surprised nobody in the Underworld," Xanxus went on, "and Grandma got involved immediately, supporting our French, Austrian, Polish and variously Slavic Allies in establishing a black market and sending people over to train the locals in guerrilla warfare. She also offered bounties for information on what was really happening in Nazi territory –which had to be Mist-verified for accuracy and honesty– and that was what laid the foundations for the Varia. The money was very good, the Vongola had an excellent reputation for paying its debts so daring professionals of all kinds were drawn into contact with the Alliance, sneaking into places nobody else could and digging up information nobody outside the Nazi elite even realised existed, including Flame-related experimentation being carried out by Nazi scientists on civilians. This information led Donna Ottava to discover the atrocities being committed by the Nazis well before anybody else did, and she turned a lot of that data into rumours which were sown right across the Underworld, fomenting unrest and riling up civilians and criminals alike.

"Then, when Mussolini entered the war alongside Hitler, she revealed the information to the Alliance and Allies to gain their support in both toppling the Fascist government locally and carrying out raids on Nazi facilities across Europe, to sabotage the Axis from within and bring it down. She didn't have to work very hard, honestly; everybody was already massively pissed off at Mussolini for his so-called 'defeat of the Mafia' a decade previously and everybody had Latent family members –many of them civilian– still in jail a decade on. A ton of people volunteered, both to join the Italian army as Latent contacts and spies and for guerrilla activity against various Nazi and Fascist targets. We had to avoid direct combat –Vindice Law forbids Actives from participating in civilian field warfare– but theft, sabotage and contracted assassination are all permitted so that was the angle taken."

"So your Grandma put generous bounties on key individuals and establishments and the people with the skills to achieve them trickled in, following the money," Florrie surmised.

"Yep," Xanxus agreed. "From all over Europe, Africa, North America and the nearer parts of Asia; hundreds of assassins who'd all worked solo or in small groups for their entire lives, Latents and Actives both, now pulled together under the umbrella of the Vongola and coordinated by the newly-established cabal of information brokers who'd provided Ottava with all that incriminating data in the first place. It was high-risk work –well over half of them died in the field– but they sped the collapse of the Axis and ensured its secrets were disseminated far and wide. Then when the Allies invaded Sicily in forty-three Ottava's attention was restricted much closer to home, so she delegated the selection and prioritising of targets to the Information Division entirely, putting them in charge of arranging everything carried out by the Strike Division and merging the two into a single unit: _la_ _Divisione d'Avanguardia per Aquisizione di Risorse Indipendenti ed Assassinio._ 'D'avanguardia' got slurred into 'da vanguardia' pretty much instantaneously, so the acronym ended up being 'VARIA' within the first week, partly because of the pun." 'Varia' meant 'it varies' in Italian, and the motley band of killers and data-mongers the newly-formed Division had encompassed had been very varied indeed.

"Then the war ended," his friend said.

"Yes." Not immediately of course; there had been a lot of action in that two-year gap, culminating in Grandma taking a personal strike force to obliterate and liberate a concentration camp where Nazi scientists were forcing civilians to go Active and experimenting on them –she'd got Vindice permission for that since it posed a direct threat to Omertà and _somebody_ had to show the survivors the ropes and make sure they knew the Laws so they didn't end up in Vendicare for breaking them– but yes, the war had ended. "Then of course Grandma had the immediate problem that there were several hundred assassins kicking about Europe who all knew of each-other, knew a lot about the Vongola and were technically out of work. None of which could be undone."

"No closing Pandora's box," Florrie agreed wryly. "So she just invited them all to stay on full-time?"

"Basically," Xanxus agreed. "There's always a market for murder after all, and having them centralised and with access to a good information network would mean customers knew where to find them and less chance of ambushes in the field, plus a basic stipend and accommodation provided meant they wouldn't starve between jobs. Ottava left governance up to them, which meant internal casualty rates were pretty high in the first months after the war until Tyrant took over, but the result is that while the Varia answers to the Don or Donna Vongola since that's where the money comes from, it basically runs itself and always has. It's not rooted in the Alliance like the other Divisions are even though there are a decent number of Alliance people in it; it was essentially created to deal with external problems and to demolish them before they start encroaching on Vongola interests. It also provides a haven for people who don't fit into the rest of the Underworld, the professionals and experts most everybody else is terrified of because they're just _too_ good, and gives those people an opportunity to socialise among equals who aren't afraid. Without the Varia all those people would be wandering around causing trouble rather than being productively employed, as would the people we sweep up from the civilian side of things who would otherwise threaten Omertà, usually by being capable of using Flames in a controlled manner while ignorant of the Laws and associated difficulties. Gives them all a cause to fight for or at least a community to belong to as well, and loyalty to that community extends long past retirement." In a pinch Xanxus could call upon over twice as many retired Varia as were currently employed, which his fake-future self had not done and was more proof of that future being fake. In a genuine war situation he _would_ call on those people because quantity had a Quality all its own, or at least get Tyrant to do it for him since Tyrant was the person who knew who they all were and where to find them. "But the old fart doesn't see that."

"What does he see then?"

Okay, context. "Back when the Varia was newly-formed and there was still a war on," Xanxus said, his tone slipping into a storytelling sing-song, "Donna Ottava's pre-teen Heir was present when a Varia Squad visited her field headquarters to hand over mission reports and several crates of stolen intelligence. He and his Guardians encountered the Squad members in the corridor outside his mother's office and demanded that they identify themselves. When they all laughed at the snotty eleven-year-old brat who presumed to give _them_ orders, he tried to force the issue with his Flames. Being reasonably mature individuals, the Squad decided this was cute rather than insulting and proceeded to tease the baby Sky. Varia-style teasing, which involves attempted murder at a level they feel the recipient should be capable of evading."

"Oh dear," Florrie murmured, hiding a mildly horrified twitch of the lips behind her hand.

"Donna Ottava's Cloud Guardian emerged from the office a few minutes later and embedded the primary offender in the cement wall of the corridor," Xanxus continued lightly, "and then the Squad Leader and Ottava herself both arrived on the scene. The Squad was scolded for 'tormenting children' and Ottava's Heir was reprimanded by his mother for deliberately antagonising her visitors, but the damage was done and the eventual Nono Vongola would ever after see the Varia through the eyes of his eleven-year-old self: as undisciplined, irreverent killers who thought murdering him and his Guardians would be funny." That final conclusion was one Xanxus had drawn for himself, rather than being part of the original story.

"Oh _dear_ ," his friend repeated, her tone pained as she fully comprehended the depth of the problem.

"Yeah," Xanxus agreed tiredly; he'd got the full story from Tyrant, who had got the details from Ottava, who had put it together from the reports of her then-Cloud and the Squad in question. Grandma had considered it an object lesson on the perils of arrogant entitlement and had never really understood the old fart's subsequent distaste for all things Varia; Xanxus hadn't understood it either until recently, when all his reading into PTSD and C-PTSD made him realise it was probably trauma-related. Unaddressed trauma the old fart's mother had completely dismissed, so he'd not had any support processing it and it had affected him long-term. Not that it was an _excuse_ , but it might be an explanation.

"So he wants to dissolve the Varia, but can't because that would leave him to deal with several hundred unemployed assassins with a grudge," Florrie summarised. "But not being able to dissolve it outright doesn't mean he won't try other means of strangling it, especially now he's trying to retire, as retiring means he won't be in charge of it for much longer so he would feel even less safe."

Xanxus hadn't looked at it from that angle before but his Cloud had a point there. "Heir doesn't get it either, so he'd be all in favour of smothering the Varia if he could get away with it," he added.

"So basically yes, your bad feeling is well-founded and you need to start planning contingencies yesterday," his Cloud concluded. "You said that Varia can retire, but have you ever had to let people go because there wasn't enough work to go around?"

"No," Xanxus admitted, abruptly very worried indeed for his men. He'd not even realised that might be something he should consider until right this moment and he _really_ didn't like the idea. He wouldn't put it past the old fart though; prepare for the worst, after all. Reductions in contracts taken might be the least of it; being ordered to downsize –however politely worded– would probably break morale and lead to even more overworked assassins in the busiest seasons, as well as a loss of skills and experience if the veterans were nudged into retiring a few years early. Losing the basic operating stipend from the Vongola would smart, but it would be a lot more bearable than some of the other alternatives the old fart could screw the Varia over with.

"More tea?" Florrie offered after about a minute's concerned silence, "And something to eat as well?"

"Please." This was going to take some serious thought. The old fart wouldn't do so based solely on his own authority, not with Chew Toy there to scapegoat, so first off, justifying basic operating costs in terms of utilities, equipment and more…

He'd think about mitigation later on, as that would take more imagination and required setting up contingencies.

* * *

In between sparring with Springer, Squalo spent Boss's scheduled and completely predictable solstice absence going over his Officer paperwork and refreshing in his mind all the things he'd signed off on over the past year and how they tied into the goals Boss had had in mind for the Varia this time last year; the year's goals went up on his office pin-board, so as to be kept fresh for all decision-making no matter how exhausted or distracted he was, so he didn't have to worry about having wandered off-target there.

As ever, there was a surprisingly large amount to go over. Mahi's promotion to Squad Leader and the new Squad assigned to him once Köder was able to take over Bait Squad again, Zima's injury and reassignment, Nycteus' retirement –well the current one anyway since he had his replacement all trained up– Vökva retiring, all the newly-Named coming up from mookdom or Apprenticehood, who had broadened their skills base and how, who had come up with new Flame techniques and what they did, other new Squad Leaders, who'd been injured and how badly, Apprentices brought in from missions…

It was a good thing he had several days to refresh it all in his mind.

He'd assigned Mahi a veteran Storm –Zephyr– to provide experience and temper him a bit, then consulted Maínomai for a second opinion before adding Viti and Vyti, twin Mists, to keep his Apprentice on his toes and make sure he was motivated to innovate and improve himself. It seemed to be working very well indeed; the Squad had a good mission record for only having existed for five months and they'd gelled well, which was always satisfying to see in a Squad thrown together as an experiment. Nobody could say he'd not given his cousin every opportunity to do well for himself, or that Mahi hadn't risen to the occasion admirably and demonstrated his Quality.

The only fly in the ointment was that Bel had dubbed the Squad 'Mahi-mahi' and it had stuck. Possibly because Mahi was now visibly taller than Boss and growing shoulders to match, so was really very big –and strong– indeed. Along with preserving the fish theme that was the Squad Leader's Name.

Still, it wasn't the most dignified of names and it was damn clear that Bel had been holding this pun in reserve for a while. Which was typical of him really.

* * *

Xanxus walked into his Monday meeting with the old fart –and Chew Toy, go figure– plagued by a deep sense of unease. He had everything in order, knew what he was going to say and what questions would probably be asked, but that did nothing to silence the persistent feeling that he was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

It was uncomfortable, but he'd attending meetings feeling worse than this.

Progress through the paperwork was slow; Chew Toy needed everything explaining to him twice and the old fart's explanations were frequently incomplete or lacking in relevant details, so Xanxus ended up having to do all the explaining since the alternative was leaving Chew Toy with misconceptions and that couldn't stand. It tried his patience something terrible though.

Why did he need to _explain_ uniform expenses? _Why_ couldn't he just say that the Varia uniform was armoured and leave it at that? Why did it have to be _him_ explaining to Chew Toy that treating clothing to be Flame-proof was _expensive_ and could only be done to natural fibres, that the Varia uniform had ceramic and Mist-made composite armour layered into it on top of that and every single item had to be hand-stitched as a result, which yes cost a lot of money but it kept his men _alive_ and wasn't that more important? Casualty rates were currently at the lowest they'd _ever_ been and shouldn't that be what they were focusing on rather than uniform costs? It wasn't like the Vongola paid for the uniforms; they got taken out of everybody's allowances! Which weren't even paid for by the Vongola operating stipend, but from a percentage of everybody's mission pay that got siphoned off into a separate fund altogether!

Yes, the new sabotage and espionage missions _were_ bringing in money, but if you looked at the comparisons you could see that mission-for-mission they brought in barely a _fifth_ of what the Varia made on bespoke murder, because there was far less risk involved so they charged less. The market for theft, espionage and sabotage was much more varied and open than the murder market –a lot more freelancers favoured it because it was more profitable and less personally risky than taking on the hits various famiglia put out– so they had to charge less in order to remain competitive; yes people _were_ willing to pay a bit more for a Varia Quality service, but not _that_ much more.

It was a good thing he had Patience now, because God he needed her today. Even if she wasn't physically present, remembering her and the things she'd talked about with him helped him take deep breaths and explain _again_ when Chew Toy missed a blatantly obvious point.

* * *

By the time the meeting limped to an end it was nearly two o'clock in the afternoon and Xanxus was exhausted, famished and getting beyond the point of caring. Chew Toy also looked rather wan, as though he'd not expected there to be this many interrelated details to go over, but Xanxus couldn't really sympathise. Trash had brought this upon himself so he should suck up and deal or else get out so competent people could start dealing with things in his place.

"Thank you for your efforts, Xanxus," the old fart said. "Tsunayoshi, is there anything you'd like to add?"

"Er, no?" Chew Toy ventured tentatively. "I mean, erm, Xanxus's explanations were very clear."

"Tsunayoshi, part of being Don is deciding what direction you want the Family to take in future years," the old fart said, his tone attempting benevolent instruction and mostly failing by being insufferably patronising. "That is what happens in Quiet Week: all the Heads of House share what they have achieved in the past year and I decide what I, as Don and Head of the Family, would like them to achieve in the coming year. You will be taking over the Vongola soon, so what is it you would like the Family –and the Varia in particular– to achieve this year?"

Trap. Definitely a trap, but Chew Toy was going to tumble right into it. Here was the shoe dropping, right on his head. Xanxus silently despaired.

"Erm," Chew Toy dithered, wringing his hands, "could the Varia kill… fewer… people?"

And there it was. So fucking predictable.

"Who do I turn away then, Decimo?" Xanxus asked, his voice harsh and tired. "The women wanting their husbands dead for raping their pre-teen daughters? The families who have lost loved ones to police brutality and military violence, who have seen official reprisals come to nothing and want revenge if justice cannot be found? The Families who have found drug rings or child trafficking gangs in their territory but lack the manpower to eradicate the infestation themselves?"

Chew Toy went so pale he was almost grey. "No!" He squeaked.

"Who then?" Xanxus demanded implacably. "Because the more self-indulgent missions commissioned by the rich and greedy enable us to charge less when those asking are desperate and their cause aligns with the Vongola's values."

"Surely it's not quite that clear-cut, Xanxus," the old fart soothed. "I'm sure a small reduction in mission numbers is perfectly achievable and can be compensated for by the rise in non-lethal endeavours."

Xanxus stared blankly at the old fucker. That was bullshit; the shithead _knew_ it was bullshit even. If they cut mission numbers it would be the mercy-missions that got cut; they were, as he'd just said, less profitable. And the sabotage and espionage missions wouldn't make up the difference, not when they were already taking on _all_ of those missions that passed Information's checks in addition to the usual assassination workload. The only way to take on _more_ missions would be to lower the Information requirement threshold, which would mean a greater risk of things going wrong in the field, leading to injuries and deaths on missions which didn't even pay that well in the first place. There was a _reason_ the Varia turned down missions they weren't sure they could achieve flawlessly and even some they knew they could; bad information, shitty politics, lying clients and objectives going against the Vongola's interests.

Fuck this shit.

"Is that an order?" He asked woodenly.

"Yes, I do believe it is," the old fart said with a supposedly warm smile. "Tsunayoshi has expressed an interest in taking the Vongola back to its roots and this is a good place to start. Don't you think so, Tsunayoshi?"

Xanxus didn't hear Chew Toy's reply, if there even was one; the roaring in his ears was too loud for that. This was it; this was what his instincts had been warning him of. This fucking _S_ _tupid_ scheme the old fart was pinning on Chew Toy when it was entirely his own idea, wanting to weaken both the Varia and Xanxus's authority and influence.

"I'll need that in writing," the Varia Boss managed, "with guidelines to indicate what kinds of missions we should prioritise and what percentage reduction is mission numbers is required. Is it an overall reduction or will each quarter have to show a drop in missions taken?" Evidence. Paperwork. A paper trail for Mammon and so the Varia could offload blame to the appropriate quarters when they turned shit down. Pin everything the smug fucker in front of him.

Twenty minutes later –proof the old fart had planned this from the outset as otherwise the papers would have been sent over by courier a few days or even weeks later when the specifics had been decided upon and written up– Xanxus was sitting in the back of a car on his way back to the Varia, a thin folder of new orders sitting on the seat beside him.

Fuck this. It looked like he would be retiring sooner rather than later; these were _his_ orders, so if he stepped down the Varia could wriggle out of them for another year at least. Maybe whoever ended up replacing him as Varia Head would even be somebody the old fart felt less threatened by.

Also looked like those contingency plans he'd brainstormed with Florrie at the weekend would be getting used after all. But first, a meeting with his Officers and the more influential individuals within Varia Housekeeping; Mammon for one was going to be _pissed._


	9. Sequel notice

**Sequel notice**

This is to let you all know that the sequel to this story, 'Pick up the Pieces and Rebuild,' will start posting in daily updates from this coming Monday, for four days. See you all there!


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